PRESENTED  TO  THE  LIBRARY 
OP 

PRINCETON  THEOLOGICHL  SEMINARY 


BTf 


|V[rs.  Ale>^andcp  Pfoudfit. 


PHILOSOPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


PHILOSOPHICAL  ESSAYS. 


BY 

/ 

DUGALD  STEWART,  ESQ. 

F.  R.  S.  EDIN. 

EJIERITUS  PROFESSOR  OF  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY,  IN  THE  UNIVERSITY  OF 
EDINBURGH; 

Honorary  Member  of  the  Imperial  Academy  of  Sciences  at  St.  Petersburgh;  and 
Member  of  the  American  Philosophical  Society,  held  at  Philadelphia. 


\ 


FIRST  AMERICAN  EDITION. 


PRINTED  FOR  ANTHONY  FINLEY,  PHILADELPHIA; 

AND 
WHITING  AND  WATSON,  NEW-YORK. 

F17  and  Kammerer,  Printers. 
1811. 


TO 

M.  PEEVOST, 

PROFESSOR  OP  PHILOSOPHY  IN  THE  ACADEMY  OF  GENEVA; 

FELLOW  OF  THE  ROYAL  SOCIETIES  OF  LONDON 
AND  OF  EDINBURGH; 

MEMBER  OF  THE  ROYAL  ACADEMY  OF  BERLIN; 
CORRESPONDENT  OF  THE  NATIONAL  INSTITUTE  OF  FRANCE,  &c.  &c. 

IN  the  interrupted  state  of  our  correspondence  at  pre- 
sent, you  will  pardon  the  liberty  I  take,  in  prefixing  your 
name  to  this  Volume.  The  honour  you  have  lately  done 
me,  by  your  French  translation  of  my  book  on  the  Human 
Mind,  and  the  warm  interest  you  have  always  taken  in 
the  success  of  that  work,  since  the  period  of  its  first 
appearance,  I  feel  as  the  most  flattering  marks  of  appro- 
bation which  it  has  ever  received;  and  diey  might  perhaps 
have  tempted  me  to  indulge,  more  than  becomes  me, 
the  vanity  of  an  author,  had  it  not  been  repressed  by  the 
still  more  pleasing  idea,  that  I  am  indebted  for  them  chiefly 
to  the  partiality  of  your  friendship. 

Permit  me.  Sir,  to  inscribe  to  you  the  following  Essays, 
in  testimony  of  my  respect  and  attachment;  and  as  a  slight 
but  sincere  acknowledgment  of  the  obligations  you  have 
laid  me  under  by  your  long- continued  kindness,  as  well 
as  of  the  instruction  and  pleasure  I  have  derived  from 
your  philosophical  writings. 

DUGALD  STEWART. 

June,  1810. 


ADVERTISEMENT. 


The  state  of  my  health  having  interrupted,  for  many 
months  past,  the  continuation  of  my  work  on  the  Human 
Mind,  I  was  induced  to  attempt,  in  the  mean  time,  the 
easier  task  of  preparing  for  the  press  a  volume  of  Essays. 
I  have  not,  however,  abandoned  the  design  which  I  ven- 
tured to  announce  eighteen  years  ago;  and  in  the  execu- 
tion of  which  I  have  already  made  considerable  progress. 
After  thirty-eight  years  devoted  to  the  various  pursuits 
connected  with  my  different  academical  situations,  I  now 
indulge  the  hope  of  enjoying,  in  a  more  retired  scene,  a 
short  period  of  private  study;  and  feel  myself  sufficient- 
ly warned  by  the  approaching  infirmities  of  age,  not  to 
delay  any  longer  my  best  exertions  for  the  accomplish- 
ment of  an  undertaking,  which  I  have  hitherto  prosecuted 
only  at  accidental  and  often  distant  intervals;  but  which 
I  have  always  fondly  imagined  (whether  justly  or  not 
others  must  determine)  might,  if  carried  into  complete 
effect,  be  of  some  utility  to  the  public. 

Kinneil-House,  15th  June,  18ie.  .-^ 


CONTENTS. 


PRELIMINARY  DISSERTATION. 

Page 

CHAPTER  I. 1 

CHAPTER  II.  ...  .  .  .  23 

PHILOSOPHICAL  ESSAYS.  PART  I. 

ESSAY  FIRST. — On  Locke's  Account  of  the  sources  of  Hu- 
man Knowledge,  and  its  influence  on  the  doctrines  of  some 
of  his  successors,  -..  -  -  -  -"65 

CHAPTER  I.— Introductory  Observations,  -  65 

CHAPTER  II. — Inconsistency  of  our  conclusions  in  the 
.  foregoing  chapter,  with  Locke's  account  of  the  origin  of 
our  knowledge,         -------73 

CHAPTER  III — Influence  of  Locke's  account  of  the 
origin  of  our  knowledge  on  the  speculations  of  various 
eminent  writers  since  his  time,  more  particularly  on 
those  of  Berkeley  and  Hume,         -         -         -         _  84 

CHAPTER  IV.— ^The  same  subject  continued,  -        95 

ESSAY  SECOND.— On  the  Idealism  of  Berkely,  -  105 

CHAPTER  I. — On  some  prevailing  mistakes  with  res- 
pect to  the  import  and  aim  of  the  Berkeleian  system,        105 
CHAPTER  II.— Section  1— On  the  foundation  of  our 
belief  of  the  existence  of  the  material  world,  accord- 
ing to  the  statement  of  Reid. — Strictures  on  that 

statement,        -- 122 

Section  2. — Continuation  of  the  subject. — Indistinctness 
of  the  line  drawn  by  Reid,  as  well  as  by  Des  Cartes 
and  Locke,  between  the  primary  and  the  secondary 
qualities  of  matter. — Distinction  between  the  primary 
^lualities  of  matter,  a.nd  its  mathematical  affections,        136 

b 


X  CONTENTS. 

ESSAY  THIRD. — On  the  influence  of  Locke's  authority  upon 
the  Philosophical  systems  which  prevailed  in  France  during 
the  latter  part  of  the  eighteenth  century,         _         -         .  145 

ESSAY  FOURTH.— On  the  metaphysical  Theories  of  Hart- 
ley, Priestley,  and  Darwin,  -  -        -         -         -  166 

ESSAY  FIFTH. — On  the  tendency  of  some  late  Philological 

speculations,         -         -         -         -         -         -         -         -  181 

CHAPTER  I. 181 

CHAPTER  II. !91 

CHAPTER  III.     - 204 

CHAPTER  IV. 216 

PHILOSOPHICAL  ESSAYS.  PART  XL 

ESSAY  FIRST.— On  the  Beautiful,        -        -         -         -          231 
Introduction,  .-.-  -  ---231 

Paut  First. — On  the  Beautiful,  when  presented  immedi- 
ately to  our  senses,         .         -         -         .  .  .  234 

CHAPTER  I. — General  observations  on  the  subject  of 
inquiry,  and  on  the  plan  upon  which  it  is  proposed  to 
examine  it,         -         -  -  -         .         -         .  234 

CHAPTER  II. — Progressive  Generalizations  of  the  word 
Beauty,  resulting  from  the  natural  progress  of  the  mind. 
Beauty  of  colours — of  forms — of  motion.' — Combina- 
tions of  these. — Uniformity  in  works  of  art. — Beauty  of 
nature,  --._..■.  249 

CHAPTER  III. — Remarks  on  some  of  Mr.  Burke's  prin- 
ciples which  do  not  agree  with  the  foregoing  conclu- 
sions,           -  -  262 

CHAPTER  IV. — Continuation  of  the  critical  strictures 
on  Mr.  Burke's  fundamental  principles  concerning 
Beauty. — Influence  of  these  principles  on  the  specula- 
tions of  Mr.  Price,         269 

CHAPTER  V. — Continuation  of  the  same  subject,  280 

CHAPTER  VI  — Of  the  application  of  the  theory  of  As- 
sociation to  Beauty. — Farther  generalizations  of  this 
word,  in  consequence  of  the  influence  of  the  associating 
principle,         -..,.-,  297 


CONTENTS.  xi 

CHAPTER  VII. — Continuation  of  the  subject. — Objec- 
tions to  a  theory  of  Beauty  proposed  by  Father  Buffier 
and  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds,          -          -          -          -  315 

Part  Second. — On  the  Beautiful,  when  presented  to  the 
power  of  Imagination  - 323 

ESSAY  SECOND.— On  the  Sublime,        ....  340 

Preface, 340 

CHAPTER  I.— Of  Sublimity,  in  the  literal  sense  of  the 

word,         .-..  .-  -.  343 

CHAPTER  II. — Generalizations  of  the  word  Sublimity, 
in  consequence  of  the  influence  of  religious  associa- 
tions,          358 

CHAPTER  III. — Generalizations  of  Sublimity  in  conse- 
quence of  associations  resulting  from  the  phenomena 
of  gravitation,  and  from  the  other  physical  arrange- 
ments with  which  our  senses  are  conversant,  373 

I 

CHAPTER  IV.— .Confirmation  of  the  foregoing  theory 
from  the  natural  signs  of  Sublime  emotion. — Reciprocal 
influence  of  these  signs  on  the  associations  which  sug- 
gest them, -  -  394 

CHAPTER  V. — Inferences  from  the  foregoing  doctrines, 
with  some  additional  illustrations,         ...  400 

ESSAY  THIRD— On  Taste, 410 

CHAPTER  I. — General  observations  on  our  acquired 
powers  of  judgment. — x\pplication  of  these  to  the  sub- 
ject of  this  Essay,         -  410 

CHAPTER  II. — Gradual  progress  by  which  Taste  is 

formed, 421 

CHAPTER  III.— Diff'erent  Modifications  of  Taste.— 
Distinction  between  Taste  and  the  natural  sensibility  to 
Beauty,         ......--  444 

CHAPTER  IV. — Continuation  of  the  subject. — Specific 
pleasure  connected  with  the  exercise  of  Taste. — Fas- 
tidiousness of  Taste. — Miscellaneous  remarks  on  this 
power,  considered  in  its  connection  with  character  and 
happiness,        -.._..-  457 

ESSAY  FOURTH.— On  the  culture  of  certain  intellectual 
habits  connected  with  the  first  elements  of  Taste,        -  475 


xii'  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  I. — Dependence  of  Taste  on  a  relish  foi-  the 
pleasures  of  imagination. — Remarks  on  the  prevailing 
idea,  that  these  are  to  be  enjoyed  in  perfection,  in  youth 
alone,         -------  -  475 

CHAPTER  n. — Continuation  of  the  subject. — Reply  to 
an  objection  founded  on  the  supposed  vigour  of  imagi- 
nation in  the  earlier  periods  of  society,  -  -  495 
Notes  and  Illustrations,        -        -         -         .         -         -      507 


PRELIMINARY  DISSERTATION. 


CHAPTER  FIRST. 

1  HE  chief  aim  of  the  following  dissertation  is,  to  cor- 
rect some  prevailing  mistakes  with  respect  to  the  Philo- 
sophy of  the  Human  Mind.  In  the  introduction  to  a 
former  Work,  I  have  enlarged,  at  considerable  length, 
upon  the  same  subject;  but  various  publications  which 
have  since  appeared,  incline  me  to  think,  that,  in  resum- 
ing it  here,  I  undertake  a  task  not  altogether  superfluous. 

Of  the  remarks  which  I  am  now  to  state,  a  few  have  a 
particular  reference  to  the  contents  of  this  volume.  Odiers 
are  intended  to  clear  the  way  for  a  different  series  of  dis- 
cussions, which  I  hope  to  be  able,  at  some  future  period, 
to  present  to  the  public. 

I.  In  the  course  of  those  speculations  on  the  Mind,  to 
which  I  have  already  referred,  and  with  which,  I  trust, 
that  my  present  readers  are  not  altogether  unacquainted, 
I  have  repeatedly  had  occasion  to  observe,  that  "  as  our 
*'  notions  both  of  matter  and  of  mind  are  merely  relative; 
"  as  we  know  the  one  only  by  such  sensible  qualities  as 
"  extension,  figure,  and  solidity,  and  the  other  by  such 
*'  operations  as  sensation,  thought,  and  volition;  we  are 
*'  certainly  entitled  to  say,  that  matter  and  mind,  consi- 
**  deredas  Objects  of  Human  Study ^  are  essentially  diflfer^ 

A 


2  rRELIMINAUY   DISSERTATION.  [Chap.  1. 

*  ent;  the  science  of  the  former  resting  ultimately  on 
'  phenomena  exhibited  to  our  senses,  that  of  the  latter 

*  on  phenomena  of  which  we  are  conscious.  Instead, 
'  therefore,  of  objecting  to  the  scheme  of  materialism, 
'  that  its  conclusions  are  false,  it  would  be  more  accurate 
'  to  say,  that  its  aim  is  unphilosophical.    It  proceeds  on 

*  a  misapprehension  of  the  extent  and  the  limits  of  genu- 

*  ine  science;  the  difficulty,  which  it  professes  to  remove, 
'  being  manifestly  placed  beyond  the  reach  of  our  facul- 
'  ties.  Surely,  when  we  attempt  to  explain  the  nature  of 
'  that  principle,  which  feels,  and  thinks,  and  wills,  by 
'  saying,  that  it  is  a  material  substance,  or  that  it  is  the 
'  result  of  material  organization,  we  impose  on  ourselves 

*  by  words;  forgetting  that  matter,  as  well  as  mind,  is 
'  known  to  us  by  its  qualities  alone,  and  that  we  are 

*  equally  ignorant  of  the  essence  of  either." 

In  the  farther  prosecution  of  the  same  argument,  I 
have  attempted  to  show,  that  the  legitimate  province  of 
this  department  of  philosophy  extends  no  farther  than  to 
conclusions  resting  on  the  solid  basis  of  observation  and 
experiment;  and  I  have,  accordingly,  in  my  own  inqui- 
ries, aimed  at  nothing  more,  than  to  ascertain,  in  the  first 
place,  the  Laws  of  our  Constitution,  as  far  as  they  can  be 
discovered  by  attention  to  the  subjects  of  our  consciousness; 
and  afterwards  to  apply  these  laws  as  principles  for  the 
synthetical  explanation  of  the  more  complicated  phenome- 
na of  the  understanding.  It  is  on  this  plan  I  have  treated 
of  the  association  of  ideas,  of  memory,  of  imagination,  and 
of  various  other  intellectual  powers;  imitating,  as  far  as  I 
was  able,  in  my  reasonings,  the  example  of  those  who  are 
allowed  to  have  cultivated  the  study  of  Natural  Philosophy 
with  the  greatest  success.  ThePhysiological  Theories 


Chap.  I]  J'KELIMINARY  DISSERTATION.  3 

which  profess  to  explain  how  our  different  mental  opera- 
tions are  produced  by  means  of  vibrations,  and  other 
changes  in  the  state  of  the  sensor  turn,  if  they  are  not  aho- 
gether  hypothetical  and  visionary,  cannot  be  considered, 
even  by  their  warmest  advocates,  as  resting  on  the  same 
evidence  with  those  conclusions  which  are  open  to  the  ex- 
amination of  all  men  capable  of  exercising  the  power  of 
Reflection;  and,  therefore,  scientific  distinctness  requires, 
that  these  two  different  classes  of  propositions  should  not 
be  confounded  together  under  one  common  name.  For 
my  own  part,  I  have  no  scruple  to  say,  that  I  consider  the 
physiological  problem  in  question,  as  one  of  those  which 
are  likely  to  remain  for  ever  among  the  arcana  of  nature; 
nor  am  I  afraid  of  being  contradicted  by  any  competent 
and  candid  judge,  how  sanguine  soever  may  be  his  hope$ 
concerning  the  progress  of  future  discovery,  when  I  as- 
sert, that  it  has  hitherto  eluded  completely  all  the  efforts 
which  have  been  made  towards  its  solution.  As  to  the 
metaphysical  romances  above  alluded  to,  they  appear  to 
me,  after  all  the  support  and  illustration  which  they  have 
received  from  the  ingenuity  of  Hartley,  of  Priestley,  and 
of  Darwin,  to  be  equally  unscientific  in  the  design,  and 
uninteresting  in  the  execution;  destitute,  at  once,  of  the 
sober  charms  of  Truth,  and  of  those  imposing  attractions, 
which  Fancy,  when  united  to  Taste,  can  lend  to  Fiction. 
In  consequence  of  the  unbounded  praise  which  I  have 
heard  bestowed  upon  them,  I  have  repeatedly  begun  the 
study  of  them  anew,  suspecting  that  I  might  be  under 
the  influence  of  some  latent  and  undue  prejudice  against 
this  new  mode  of  philosophizing,  so  much  in  vogue  at 
present  in  England;  but  notwithstanding  the  strong  pre- 
dilection which  I  have  always  felt  for  such  pursuits,  my 


4  ,  PllELLAnNAllY  DISSERTATION.  LCIiap.  I. 

labour  has  uniformly  ended  in  a  sentiment  of  regret,  at 
the  time  and  attention  which  I  had  misemployed  in  so 
hopeless  and  so  ungrateful  a  task. 

Mr.  Locke,  although  he  occasionally  indulges  himself 
in  hints  and  conjectures,  somewhat  analogous  to  those  of 
Hartley  and  Darwin,  seems  to  have  been  perfectly  aware 
how  foreign  such  speculations  are  to  the  genuine  Philo- 
sophy of  the  Human  Mind.  The  following  are  his  own 
words,  in  the  second  paragraph  of  the  Introduction  to 
his  Essay: — "  This,  therefore,  being  my  purpose,  to  in- 
"  quire  into  the  original,  certainty,  and  extent  of  human 
*'  knowledge;  together  with  the  grounds  and  degrees  of 
*'  belief,  opinion,  and  assent,  I  shall  not,  at  present,  med- 
"  die  with  the  physical  consideration  of  the  mind,  or 
*'  trouble  myself  to  examine,  wherein  its  essence  con- 
"  sists,  or  by  what  motions  of  our  spirits,  or  alteration  of 
"  our  bodies,  we  come  to  have  any  sensation  by  our  or- 
"  gans,  or  any  ideas  of  our  understandings;  and  whether 
"  these  ideas  do  in  their  formation,  any  or  all  of  them, 
"  depend  on  matter  or  not.  These  are  speculations, 
"  which,  however  curious  and  entertaining,  I  shall  de- 
"  cline,  as  lying  out  of  my  way  in  the  design  I  am  now 
*'  upon."  It  is  much  to  be  wished,  that  Mr.  Locke  had 
adhered  invariably  to  this  wise  resolution. 

I  flatter  myself  it  will  not  be  inferred,  from  the  manner 
in  which  I  have  expressed  myself  with  respect  to  the  com- 
mon theories  of  physiologists  about  the  causes  of  the  intel- 
lectual phenomena,  that  I  entertain  any  doubt  of  the  inti- 
mate connection  which  exists  between  these  phenomena 
and  the  organization  of  the  body.  The  great  principle 
which  I  am  anxious  to  inculate,  is,  that  all  the  theories 
w^hich  have  yet  been  offered  on  this  subject,  are  entirely 


Chap.  1.3  PRELIMINARY  DISSERTATION.  5 

unsupported  by  proof;  and  what  is  worse,  are  of  such  a 
kind,  that  it  is  neither  possible  to  confirm  nor  to  refute 
them,  by  an  appeal  to  experiment  or  observation.  That  I 
was  all  along  fully  aware  of  the  dependence,  in  our  pre- 
sent state,  of  our  mental  operations  on  the  sound  condi- 
tion of  our  corporeal  frame,  appears  sufficiently  from  what 
I  remarked,  many  years  ago,  concerning  the  laws  of  this 
connection  between  mind  and  body,  as  presenting  one  of 
the  most  interesting  objects  of  examination  connected 
with  the  theory  of  human  nature.* 

I  have  been  induced  to  caution  my  Readers  against 
the  possibility  of  such  a  misapprehension  of  my  meaning, 
by  the  following  passage  in  a  late  publication:  "  What  that 
*'  affection  of  the  brain  is,"  (says  Mr  Belsham)  "  which, 
**  by  the  constitution  of  human  nature,  causes  Memory, 
*'  we  cannot  absolutely  ascertain.  The  hypothesis  of  Fi- 
*'  brations,  which  has  already  been  explained,  is  the  most 
"  probable.  It  is  trifling  to  object,  that  if  the  existence  of 
"  impressions  on  the  brain  could  be  proved.  Memory 
"  would  remain  as  unaccountable  as  before:  all  which 
"  this  hypothesis  pretends  to,  is  to  advance  a  step  in  tra- 
"  cing  the  process  of  the  connection  between  external  ob- 
"  jects  and  mental  feelings." — "  It  is  curious  to  observe," 
(the  same  author  continues)  "  that  Dr.  Reid,  after  start- 
*'  ing  several  objections  against  the  commonly  received 
"  hypotheses,  is  obliged  to  admit,  that '  many  well-knbwn 
"  facts  lead  us  to  conclude,  that  a  certain  constitution  or 
' "  state  of  the  brain  is  necessary  to  Memory." 

On  this  passage  I  shall  offer  only  two  remaks.  The  first 
is,  that,  notwithstanding  Mr.  Belsham's  zeal  for  Hartley's 

*  Philosophy  of  the  Human  Mind,  pp.  II,  12,  3d  ed. 


6  PKELIMINARY   DISSERTATION.  [Chap.  L 

Theory'  of  Vibrations,  he  confesses  explicitly,  that  "  we 
"  cannot  absolutely  ascertain,  what  that  affection  of  the 
*'  brain  is,  which,  by  the  constitution  of  human  nature, 
"  causes  memory;'*  and  that,  "  the  theory  of  Vibrations, 
"  though  more  probable  than  some  others,  is  still  but  an 
"  hypothesis."  Secondly,  that  Mr,  Belsham,  after  making 
this  explicit  acknowledgment,  is  nevertheless  pleased  to 
insinuate,  that  all  who  presume  to  object  to  this  particular 
hypothesis,  are  bound  by  their  own  principles  to  assert, 
that  memory  has  no  dependence  wliatever  on  the  state  of 
the  brain.  Where  the  inconsistency  lies  in  Dr.  Reid's  ad- 
mission, that  a  certain  constitution  or  state  of  the  brain  is 
necessary  to  memory,  after  he  had  stated  some  objections 
against  the  commonly  received  theories,  I  am  at  a  loss  to 
discover.  Indeed,  I  should  be  glad  to  know,  what  philo- 
sopher, ancient  or  modern,  has  ever  yet  asserted,  that 
memory  is  not  liable  to  be  injured  by  such  affections  of 
the  brain  as  are  produced  by  intemperance,  disease,  old 
age,  and  other  circumstances  which  disturb  the  bodily 
mechanism.  The  philosophical  inference,  however,  from 
this  concession  is,  not  that  the  hypothesis  of  Dr.  Hartley, 
or  the  hypothesis  of  Mr.  Belsham  must  necessarily  be 
true;  but  that,  laying  aside  all  hypotheses,  we  should  ap- 
ply ourselves  to  collect  such  facts  as  may  lead  us,  in  due 
time,  to  the  only  satisfactory  conclusions  we  have  much 
chance  of  ever  forming  concerning  the  connection  be- 
tween mind  and  body — the  discovery  of  some  of  the 
general  laws  by  which  this  conqection  is  regulated. 

In  offering  these  strictures  on  the  physiological  meta- 
physics of  the  present  day,  it  is  proper  for  me,  at  the  same 
time,  to  observe,  that  I  object  to  it  merely  as  an  idle  waste 
of  labour  and  ingenuity,  on  questions  to  which  tlie  human 


qhap.  I]  PRELIMINARY  DISSERTATION.  7 

faculties  are  altogether  incompetent;  and  not  because  I 
consider  any  of  the  theories,  to  which  it  has  given  birth, 
as  standing  in  the  way  of  my  own  doctrines.  The  facts 
which  I  wish  to  ascertain  rest  on  their  own  proper  evi- 
dence;— an  evidence  which  would  remain  entire  and  un- 
shaken, although  a  demonstration  should  be  produced  in 
favour  of  the  animal  spirits  of  Des  Cartes,  or  of  the  Vibra- 
tions of  Hartley;  and  which  would  not  gain  the  slightest 
accession  of  strength,  if  both  these  hypotheses  were  to 
fall  into  the  contempt  they  deserve.  The  circumstance 
which  peculiarly  characterizes  the  inductive  Science  of  the 
Mind  is,  that  it  professes  to  abstain  from  all  speculations 
concerning  its  nature  and  essence;  confining  the  attention 
entirely  to  phenomena,  which  every  individual  has  it  in  his 
power  to  examine  for  himself,  who  chooses  to  exercise 
the  powers  of  his  understanding.  In  this  respect,  it  differs 
equally  in  its  scope,  from  the  pneumatological  discussions 
concerning  the  seat  of  the  Soul,  and  the  possibility  or  the 
impossibility  of  its  bearing  any  relation  to  Space  or  to 
Time,  which  so  long  gave  employment  to  the  subtility  of 
the  schoolmen; — and  from  the  physiological  hypotheses 
which  have  made  so  much  noise  at  a  later  period,  concern- 
ing the  mechanical  causes  on  which  its  operations  depend. 
Compared  with  the  first,  it  differs,  as  the  inquiries  of  Ga- 
lileo concerning  the  laws  of  moving  bodies  differ  from  the 
disputes  of  the  ancient  sophists  concerning  the  existence 
and  the  nature  of  motion.  Compared  with  the  other,  the 
difference  is  analogous  to  what  exists  between  the  conclu- 
sions of  Newton  about  the  law  of  gravitation,  and  his  query 
concerning  the  invisible  ether,  of  which  he  supposed  it 
might  possibly  be  the  effect. — It  may  be  worth  while  to 
add,  in  passing,  that  the  diversity,  of  opinion  among  New 


8         '  PRELIMINARY   DISSERTATION,  ^     [Chap.!, 

ton's  followers,  with  respect  to  the  verisimilitude  of  this 
query,  while  they  have  unanimously  acquiesced  in  the 
physical  conclusions  of  their  master,  affords  an  instructive 
proof,  how  little  the  researches  of  inductive  science  are 
liable  to  be  influenced  by  the  wanderings  of  Imagination, 
in  those  regions  which  human  reason  is  not  permitted  to 
explore.  Whatever  our  opinion  concerning  the  unknown 
physical  or  metaphysical  cause  of  gravitation  may  be,  our 
reasonings  concerning  the  system  of  nature  will  be  equally 
just,  provided  only  we  admit  the  general  fact,  that  bodies 
tend  to  approach  each  other  with  a  force  varying  with 
their  mutual  distances,  according  to  a  certain  law.  The 
case  is  precisely  similar  with  respect  to  those  conclusions 
concerning  the  mind,  to  which  we  are  fairly  led  by  the 
method  of  Induction.  They  rest  upon  a  firm  and  indis- 
putable basis  of  their  own;  and  (as  I  have  elsewhere  re- 
marked) are  equally  compatible  with  the  metaphysical 
creeds  of  the  Materialist  and  of  the  Berkeleian.  * 


*  The  hypothesis  which  assumes  the  existence  of  a  subtle  fluid 
in  the  nerves,  propagated  by  their  means  from  the  brain  to  the  dif- 
ferent parts  of  the  body,  is  of  great  antiquity;  and  is  certainly  less 
repugnant  to  ihe  general  analogy  of  our  frame,  than  that  by  which  it 
lias  been  supplanted.  How  very  generally  it  once  prevailed,  may  be 
inferred  from  the  adoption  into  common  speech  of  the  phrase  animal 
sfiiritu,  to  denote  that  unknown  cause  which  "  gives  vigour  or  cheer- 
fulness to  the  mind;" — a  phrase  for  which  our  language  does  not,  at 
this  day, afford  a  convenient  substitute.  The  late  Dr.  Alexander  Monro 
(one  of  the  most  cautious  and  judicious  of  medical  inquirers)  speaks 
of  it  as  a  fact  which  appeared  to  him  to  be  almost  indisputable.  "  The 
"  existence  of  a  liquid  in  the  cavities  of  the  nerves,  is  supported  by 
"  little  short  of  demonstrative  evidence."  (See  some  observations  of 
his,  published  by  Cheselden  in  his  Anatomy.) 

The  hypothesis  of  Vibrations  first  attracted  public  notice  in  the 
writings  of  Dr.  William  Briggs.  It  was  from  him  tlpt  Sir  Isaac 
Newton  derived  his  anatomical  knowledge;  along  with  which  he  ap- 


-ChaJ).  I.]  PRELIMINARY  DISSERTATION.  9 

II.  Intimately  connected  with  the  physiological  hypo- 
thesis of  the  Hartleian  school,  is  their  metaphysical  the- 
ory of  Association,  from  which  single  principle  they  boast 
to  have  explained  synthetically  all  the  phenomena  of  the 
mind.  In  Dr.  Priestley's  Remarks  on  Reid's  Inquiry,  there 
is  an  attempt  to  turn  into  ridicule,  by  what  the  author 
calls  a  Table  of  Dr.  Reid's  Instinctive  Principles,  the  ap- 
plication  of  the  Inductive  Logic  to  these  phenomena. 
How  far  this  Table  is  faithfully  extracted  from  Dr.  Reid's 
book,  it  is  unnecessary  for  me  to  consider  at  present.* 
Supposing,  for  the  sake  of  argument,  that  the  Twelve 
Principles  enumerated  by  Priestley  had  been  actually 
stated  by  his  antagonist  as  instinctive  principles,  or  as  ^^- 
nerallaws  of  our  nature^  it  is  difficult  to  see  for  what  rea- 
son the  enumeration  should  be  regarded  as  absurd,  or 
even  as  unphilosophical,  after  the  explanation  given  by 
Reid  himself  of  the  sense  in  which  he  wished  his  con- 
clusions to  be  understood. 

*'  The  most  general  phenomena  we  can  reach ^  are 
"  what  we  call  Laws  of  Nature.  So  that  the  laws  of  na» 
**  ture  are  nothing  else  but  the  most  general  facts  relating 
*'  to  the  operations  of  nature,  which  include  a  great  many 
"  particular  facts  under  them.  And,  if,  in  any  case,  we 

pears  plainly,  from  his  Queries,  to  have  imbibed  also  some  of  the 
physiological  theories  of  his  preceptor. 

In  the  Monthly  Review  for  1808, 1  observe  the  following  passage: 
"  For  the  partiality  which  he  (Dr.  Cogan)  shews  to  Dr.  Reid,  we 
*'  may  easily  account,  as  being  a  just  tribute  to  the  ingenuity  and 
"  industry  of  that  writer,  and  to  the  numerous  valuable  observations 
''  which  enrich  his  works,  imconnected  with  his  crude  hypothesis  on 
"  the  sxibject  of  the  Human  Mind."  In  what  part  of  Dr.  Reid's  writ- 
ings is  this  crude  hypothesis  proposed? 

*  The  reader  will  be  enabled  to  form  a  judgment  on  this  point? 
by  the  Note  (**)  at  the  end  of  t!ws  Volume. 

B 


10  PREUMINAUY  DlSSEfelATION.  [Chap.  I- 

**  should  give  the  name  of  a  law  of  nature  to  a  general 
*'  phenomenon,  which  human  industry  shall  afterwards 
*'  trace  to  one  more  general,  there  is  no  great  harm  done, 
"  The  most  general  assumes  the  name  of  a  law  of  nature 
*'  when  it  is  discovered;  and  the  less  general  is  contained 
*^'  and  comprehended  in  it."* 

In  another  part  of  his  work,  he  has  introduced  the  same 
remark.  *'  The  labyrinth  may  be  too  intricate,  and  the 
"  thread  too  fine,  to  be  traced  dirough  all  its  windings; 
*'  but  if  we  stop  where  we  can  trace  it  no  farther,  and 
''  secure  the  ground  we  have  gained,  there  is  no  harm 
*'  done;  a  quicker  eye  may  in  time  trace  it  farther."! 

In  reply  to  these  passages,  Priestley  observes,  that 
"  the  suspicion  that  w-e  are  got  to  ultimate  principles, 
-'  necessarily  checks  all  farther  inquiry,  and  is  therefore 
"  of  great  disservice  in  philosophy.  Let  Dr.  Reid  (he 
*^'  continues)  lay  his  hand  upon  his  breast,  and  say,  whe- 
"  ther,  after  what  he  has  VvTitten,  he  would  not  be  exceed- 
"  ingly  mortified  to  find  it  clearly  proved,  to  the  satisfac- 
"  tion  of  all  the  world,  that  all  the  instinctive  principles 
"  in  the  preceding  Table  were  really  acquired;  and  that 
"  all  of  them  were  nothing  more  than  so  many  different 
"  cases  of  tlie  old  and  well-known  principle  of  Associa- 
"  tion  of  Ideas  y 

With  respect  to  the  probability  of  this  supposition,  I 
have  nothing  to  add  to  what  I  have  stated  on  the  same 
head,  in  the  Philosophy  of  the  Human  Mind;  "  that,  in 
**  all  the  other  sciences,  the  progress  of  discovery  has 
"  been  gradual,  from  the  less  general  to  the  more  general 
"  laws  of  nature;  and  that  it  would  be  singular  indeed,  if, 

*  Reid's  Inquiry,  p.  223,  3d  ed.  t  P.  \- 


Chap.t]  PRELIMINARY  DISSERTATION.  li 

*'  in  this  science,  which  but  a  few  years  ago  Was  confesS" 
"  ediy  in  its  infancy,  and  which  certainly  labours  under 
*'  many  disadvantages  peculiar  to  itself,  a  step  should  all 
*'  at  once  be  made  to  a  single  principle,  comprehending 
*'  all  the  particular  phenomena  which  we  know."* 

As  the  order  established  in  the  intellectual  world  seems 
to  be  regulated  by  laws  perfectly  analogous  to  those  which 
we  trace  among  the  phenomena  of  the  material  system; 
and  as,  in  all  our  philosophical  inquiries  (to  whatever 
subject  they  may  relate)  the  progress  of  the  mind  is  liable 
to  be  affected  by  the  same  tendency  to  a  premature  gene- 
ralization, the  following  extract  from  an  eminent  chemi- 
cal writer  may  contribute  to  illustrate  the  scope,  and  to 
confirm  the  justness  of  some  of  the  foregoing  reflections* 

'•  Within  the  last  fifteen  or  twenty  years,  several  new 
*'  metals,  and  new  earths,  have  been  made  known  to 
"  the  world.  The  names  that  support  these  discoveries 
*'  are  respectable,  and  the  experiments  decisive.  If  we 
"  do  not  give  our  assent  to  them,  no  single  proposition 
*'  in  chemistry  can  for  a  moment  stand.  But  whether 
"  all  th^se  are  really  simple  substances,  or  compounds 
*'  not  yet  resolved  into  their  elements,  is  what  the  authors 
**  themselves  cannot  possibly  assert;  nor  would  it,  in  the 
*'  least,  diminish  the  merit  of  their  observations,  if  future 
*'  experiments  should  prove  them  to  have  been  mistaken, 
"  as  to  the  simplicity  of  these  substances.  This  remark 
"  should  not  be  confined  to  later  discoveries;  it  may  as 
''  justly  be  applied  to  those  earths  and  metals  with  which 
"  we  have  been  long  acquainted."--^"  In  the  dark  ages 
'*  of  chemistry,  the  object  was  to  rival  nature;  and  the 

*  Elements,  &c.  p.  398  (3d  edition),  where  I  have  enlarged  on  this 
point  at  some  length . 


12  PRELIMINARY  DISSERT ATIOJ^.  [Chap.  I. 

'*  substance  which  the  adepts  of  those  days  were  b'^sied 
"  to  create,  was  universally  allowed  to  be  simple.  In  a 
"  more  enlightened  period,  we  have  extended  our  inqui- 
"  ries,  and  multiplied  the  number  of  the  elements.  The 
*'  last  task  will  be  to  simplify;  and,  by  a  closer  obser- 
"  vation  of  nature,  to  learn  from  what  a  small  store  of 
*'  primitive  materials,  all  that  we  behold  and  wonder  at 
"  was  created."* 

This  analogy  between  the  history  of  chemistry  and 
that  of  tlie  philosophy  of  the  human  mind,  which  has  often 
struck  myself  in  contrasting  the  views  of  the  Alchemists 
with  those  of  Lavoisier  and  his  followers,  has  acquired 
much  additional  value  and  importance  in  my  estimation, 
since  I  had  the  pleasure  to  peruse  a  late  work  of  M.  De 
Gerando;  in  which  I  find,  that  the  same  analogy  has  pre- 
sented itself  to  that  most  judicious  philosopher,  and  has 
been  applied  by  him  to  the  same  practical  purpose,  of 
exposing  the  false  pretensions  and  premature  generaliza- 
tions of  some  modern  metaphysicians. 

"  It  required  nothing  less  than  the  united  splendour  of 
"  the  discoveries  brought  to  light  by  the  new  chemical 
"  school,  to  tear  the  minds  of  men  from  the  pursuit  of  a 
"  simple  and  primary  element;  a  pursuit  renewed  in  every 
"  age  with  an  indefatigable  perseverance,  and  always  re- 
"  newed  in  vain.  With  what  feelings  of  contempt  would 
"  the  physiologists  of  former  times  have  looked  down  on 
"  the  chemists  of  the  present  age,  whose  timid  and  cir- 
"  cumscribed  system  admits  nearly  forty  different  priii- 

*  Inquiries  concerning  the  nature  of  a  metallic  substance,  lately 
sold  in  London  as  a  new  Metal,  under  the  title  of  Palladium.  By 
Rich.  Chencvix,  Esq. 


"Chap.  L]  PRELIMINARY  DISSERTATION.  13 

"  ciples  in  the  composition  of  bodies!  What  a  subject  of 
"  ridicule  would  the  new  nomenclature  have  afforded  to 
**  an  Alchemist!" 

"  The  Philosophy  of  Mind  has  its  Alchemists  also;— 
**  men  whose  studies  are  directed  to  the  pursuit  of  one 
"  single  principle,  into  which  the  whole  science  may  be 
"  resolved;  and  who  flatter  themselves  with  the  hope  of 
**  discovering  the  grand  secret,  by  Which  the  pure  gold  of 
"  Truth  may  be  produced  at  pleasure."* 

Among  these  Alchemists  in  the  science  of  mindj  the 
first  place  is  undoubtedly  due  to  Dr.  Hartley,  who  not 
only  attempts  to  account  for  all  the  phenomena  of  human 
nature,  from  the  single  principle  o^  Association^  combined 
with  the  hypothetical  assumption  of  an  invisible  fluid  or 
ether^  producing  Vibrations  in  the  medullary  substance  of 
the  brain  and  nerves;  but  indulges  his  imagination  in 
anticipating  an  sera,  "  when  future  generations  shall  put 
*'  all  kinds  of  evidences  and  inquiries  into  mathemetical 
"  forms;  reducing  Aristotle's  ten  categories,  and  Bishop 
"  Wilkins'  forty  samma  genera^  to  the  head  of  Quantity 
**  alone,  so  as  to  make  mathematics  and  logic,  natural 
**  history  and  civil  history,  natural  philosophy,  and  philo- 
"  sophy  of  all  other  kinds,  coincide  omni  ex  parte t''"'  If 
I  had  never  read  another  sentence  of  this  author,  I  should 
have  required  no  farther  evidence  of  the  unsoundness  of 
his  understanding. 

It  is  however,  on  such  rash  and  unwarranted  assertions 
as  this,  combined  with  the  supposed  comprehensiveness 
of  his  metaphysical  views,  that  the  peculiar  merits  of 
Hartley  seem  now  to  be  chiefly  rested  by  the  more  en- 

*  De  Geramlo,  Hist,  des  Systemes,  torn.  11.  pp.  481,  482, 


14  PRELIMINARY  DISSERTATION?.  [Ch«p  T. 

lightened  of  his  admirers.  Most  of  these,  at  least  whom  I 
lia^e  happened  to  converse  with,  have  spoken  of  his  phy- 
siological doctrines  as  but  of  little  value,  compared  with 
the  wonders  which  he  has  accomplished  by  a  skilful  use 
of  the  Associating  Principle.  On  this  head,  therefore,  I 
must  request  the  attention  of  my  readers  to  a  few  short 
remarks. 

III.  Of  the  most  celebrated  theorists  who  have  appeared 
since  the  time  of  Lord  Ba(y)n,  by  far  the  greater  part  have 
attempted  to  attract  notice,  by  displaying  their  ingenuity 
in  deducing,  from  some  general  principle  or  law,  already 
acknowledged  by  philosophers,  an  immense  variety  of 
particular  phenomena.  For  this  purpose,  they  have  fre- 
quently found  themselves  under  a  necessity  of  giving  a 
false  gloss  to  facts,  and  sometimes  of  totally  misrepre- 
senting them;  a  practice  which  has  certainly  contributed 
much  to  retard  the  progress  of  experimental  knowledge; 
but  which,  at  the  same  time,  must  be  allowed  (at  least  iii 
Physics)  to  have,  in  some  cases,  prepared  the  way  for 
sounder  conclusions.  The  plan  adopted  by  Hartley  is  very 
different  from  this,  and  incomparably  more  easy  in  the 
execution.  The  generalizations  which  he  has  attempted 
are  merely  verbal;  deriving  whatever  speciousness  they 
may  possess,  from  the  unprecedented  latitude  given  to 
the  meaning  of  common  terms.  After  telling  us,  for  ex- 
ample, that  "  all  our  internal  feelings,  excepting  our  sen- 
*'  sations,  may  be  called  ideas;''''  and  giving  to  the  word 
Association  a  corresponding  vagueness  in  its  import,  he 
seems  to  have  flattered  himself,  that  he  had  resolved  into 
one  single  law%  all  the  various  phenomena,  both  intellec- 
tual and  moral,  of  the  human  mind.  What  advantage, 
either  theoretical  or  practical,  do  we  reap  from  this  pre- 


CHap.  I.J  PRELIAllNAKY  DISSEKTATION.  15 

tended  discovery; — a  discovery  necessarily  involved  in 
the  arbitrary  definitions  with  which  the  author  sets  out? 
I  must  acknowledge,  that  I  can  perceive  none: — while, 
on  the  other  hand,  I  see  clearly  its  necessary  effect,  by 
perverting  ordinary  language,  to  retard  the  progress  of  a 
science,  which  depends,  more  than  any  other,  for  its 
improvement,  on  the  use  of  precise  and  definite  expres- 
sions.* 

With  respect  to  the  phrase  association  of  ideas,  which 
makes  such  a  figure,  not  only  in  Hardey,  but  in  most  of 
the  metaphysical  writers  whom  England  has  since  pro- 
duced, I  shall  take  this  opportunity  to  remark,  how  very 
widely  its  present  acceptation  differs  from  that  invariably 
annexed  to  it  in  Mr  Locke's  Essay.  In  his  short  chapter 
on  this  subject  (one  of  the  most  valuable  in  the  whole 
work),  his  observations  relate  entirely  to  "  those  connec- 
"  tions  of  ideas  that  are  owing  to  chance;  in  consequence 
"  of  which  connections,  ideas  that,  in  themselves,  are  not 
"  at  all  a-kin,  come  to  be  so  united  in  some  men's  minds, 
"  that  it  is  very  hard  to  separate  them;  and  the  one  no 
*'  sooner,  at  any  time,    comes  into  the   understanding, 

*  Under  the  title  of  Association,  Hartley  includes  every  connection, 
which  can  possibly  exist  among  our  thoughts;  whether  the  result  oC 
our  natural  constitution,  or  the  effect  of  accidental  circumstances,  or 
the  legitimate  offspring  of  our  rational  powers.  Even  our  assent  to  the 
proposition,  that  twice  two  is  four,  is  (according  to  him)  only  a  particu- 
lar case  of  the  same  general  law.  "  The  cause  that  a  person  affirms  the 
truth  of  the  proposition,  twice  two  is /our,  is  the  entire  coincidence  of 
the  visible  or  tangible  idea  of  twice  two  with  that  of  four,  as  impress- 
ed upon  the  mind  by  various  objects.  We  see  everywhere,  that  twice 
two  and  four  ai^e  only  different  names  for  the  same  impression.  And 
it  is  mere  association  which  appropriates  the  word  truth,  its  de- 
finition, or  its  internal  feeling,  to  this  coincidence." 

Hartley  on  Man,  Vol.  I.  p.  325.  4th  edit. 


16  PRELIMINAKY  DISSERTATION.  [Chap,  l, 

"  but  its  Associate  appears  with  it."  His  reason  for  dvvelK 
ing  on  these,  he  tells  us  expressly,  is,  "  that  those  who 
**  have  children,  or  the  charge  of  their  education,  may 
'*  think  it  worth  their  while  diligently  to  watch,  and  care* 
'*  fully  to  prevent  the  undue  connection  of  ideas  in  the 
'*  minds  of  young  people.  This  (he  adds)  is  the  time 
**  most  susceptible  of  lasting  impressions;  and  though 
**  those  relating  to  the  health  of  the  body  are,  by  discreet 
"  people,  minded  and  fenced  against;  yet  I  am  apt  to 
'^  doubt,  that  those  which  relate  more  peculiarly  to  the 
"  mind,  and  terminate  in  the  understanding,  or  passions, 
*'  have  been  much  less  heeded  than  the  thing  deserves; 
"  nay,  those  relating  purely  to  the  understanding  have, 
"  as  I  suspect,  been  by  most  men  wholly  overlooked." 

From  these  quotations,  it  is  evident  that  Mr.  Locke 
meant  to  comprehend,  under  the  associatiofi  of  ideasy 
those  Associations  alone,  which,  for  the  sake  of  distinc- 
tion, I  have  characterized,  in  my  former  work,  by  the 
epithet  casual.  To  such  as  arise  out  of  the  nature  and 
condition  of  Man  (and  which,  in  the  following  Essays,  I 
generally  denominate  U?iwef'sal  Associations)^  Mr  Locke 
gives  the  title  of  Natural  Connections;  observing,  with 
regard  to  them,  that  "  it  is  the  office  and  excellency  of 
*'  reason  to  trace  them,  and  to  hold  them  together  in 
<'  union."  If  his  language  on  this  head  had  been  more 
closely  imitated  by  his  successors,  many  of  the  errors  and 
false  refinements  would  have  been  avoided,  into  which 
they  have  fallen.  Mr  Hume  was  one  of  the  first  who  devi- 
ated  from  it,  by  the  enlarged  sense  in  which  he  used 
Association  in  his  writings;  comprehending  under  that 
term,  all  the  various  connections  or  affinities  among  our 
ideas,  natural  as  well  as  casualj  and  even  going  so  far  as 


Chap.  I.]  PRELIMINARY  DISSERTATION.  17 

to  anticipate  Hartley's  conclusions,  by  representing  *' the 
"  principle  of  union  and  cohesion  among  our  simple 
"  ideas  as  a  kind  of  attraction^  of  as  univ'ersal  application 
"  in  the  Mental  world  as  in  the  Natural."*  As  it  is  now, 
however,  too  late  to  remonstrate  against  this  unfortu- 
nate innovation,  all  that  remains  for  us  is  to  limit  the 
meaning  of  Association^  where  there  is  any  danger  of 
ambiguity,  by  two  such  qualifying  adjectives  as  I  have 
already  mentioned.  I  have,  accordingly,  in  these  Essays, 
employed  the  word  in  the  same  general  acceptation  with 
Mr.  Hume,  as  it  seems  to  me  to  be  that  which  is  most 
agreeable  to  present  use,  and  consequently  the  most  likely 
to  present  itself  to  the  generality  of  my  readers;  guarding 
them,  at  the  same  time,  as  far  as  possible,  against  con- 
founding the  two  very  different  classes  of  connections^  to 
which  he  applies  indiscriminately  this  common  title.  As 
for  the  latitude  of  Hartley's  phraseology,  it  is  altogether 
incompatible  with  precise  notions  of  our  intellectual  ope- 
rations, or  with  any  thing  approaching  to  logical  reasoning 
concerning  the  Human  Mind; — two  circumstances  which 
have  probably  contributed  not  a  little  to  the  popularity  of 
his  book,  among  a  very  numerous  class  of  inquirers. 

For  my  own  part,  notwithstanding  the  ridicule  to  which 
I  may  expose  myself,  by  the  timidity  of  my  researches,  it 
shall  ever  be  my  study  and  my  pride,  to  follow  the  foot- 
steps of  those  faithful  interpreters  of  nature,  who,  dis- 
claiming all  pretensions  to  conjectural  sagacity,  aspire  to 
nothing  higher,  than  to  rise  slowly  from  particular  facts 
to  general  laws.  I  trust,  therefore,  that  while,  in  this  re- 
spect, I  propose  to  myself  the  example  of  the  Newtonian 

*  Treatise  of  Human  Nature,  Vol.  I.  p.  30. 

c 


18  niELIMlNAKY  DISSERTATION.  L^liap.  I. 

School,  I  shall  be  pardoned  for  discovering  some  solici- 
tude, on  the  other  hand,  to  separate  the  Philosophy  of 
the  Human  Mind  from  those  frivolous  branches  of  scho- 
lastic learning  with  which  it  is  commonly  classed  in  the 
public  opinion.  With  this  view,  I  have  elsewhere  endea- 
voured to  explain,  as  clearly  as  I  could,  what  I  conceive 
to  be  its  proper  object  and  province;  but  sonic  additional 
illustmtions,  of  a  historical  nature,  may  perhaps  contri- 
bute to  place  my  argument  in  a  stronger  light  than  it  is 
possible  to  do  by  any  abstract  reasoning. 

IV.  It  is  a  circumstance  not  a  little  remarkable,  that 
the  Philosophy  of  the  Mind,  although  in  later  times  con» 
sidered  as  a  subject  of  purely  metaphysical  research,  was 
classed  among  the  branches  of  physical  science,  in  the 
ancient  enumeration  of  the  objects  of  human  knowledge. 
In  estimating  the  merit  of  those  who  first  proposed  this 
arrangement,  something,  I  suspect,  may  be  fairly  ascribed 
to  accident;  but  that  the  arrangement  is  in  itself  agreeable 
to  the  views  of  the  most  enlightened  and  refined  logic, 
appears  indisputably  from  this  ob^'ious  consideration, 
that  the  words  Matter  and  Mind  express  the  two  great 
departments  of  nature  which  fall  inider  our  notice;  imd 
that,  in  the  study  of  both,  the  only  progress  we  are  able 
to  make,  is  by  an  accurate  examination  of  particular  phe- 
nomena, and  a  cautious  reference  of  these  to  the  general 
laws  or  rules  under  which  they  are  comprehended.  Ac- 
cordingly, some  modern  writers,  of  the  first  eminence, 
have  given  their  decided  sanction  to  this  old  and  almost 
forgotten  classification,  in  preference  to  that  which  has 
obtained  universally  in  modern  Europe. 

*'  The  ancient  Greek  philosophy"  (says  Mr.  Smith) 
*'  was  divided  into  three  great  branches;  physics,  or  na- 


Chap.  I.]  PRELIMINARY  DISSERTATION.^  19 

"  tural  philosophy;  ethics,  or  moral  philosophy;  and 
*' logic." — This  general  division"  (he  adds)  "seems 
*'  perfectly  agreeable  to  the  nature  of  things."  Mr.  Smith 
afterwards  observes,  "  that  as  the  human  mind,  in  what- 
"  ever  its  essence  may  be  supposed  to  consist,  is  a  part, 
"  of  the  great  system  of  the  universe,  and  a  part,  too, 
*'  productive  of  the  most  important  eiFects,  whatever  was 
"  taught  in  the  ancient  schools  of  Greece,  concerning  its 
"  nature,  made  a  part  of  the  system  of  Physics."* 

Mr.  Locke,  too,  in  the  concluding  chapter  of  his 
Essay,  proposes,  as  what  seemed  to  him  the  most  gene- 
ral, as  well  as  natural  division  of  the  objects  of  our  un- 
derstanding, an  arrangement  coinciding  exactly  with  that 
of  the  ancients,  as  explained  by  Mr.  Smith  in  the  fore- 
going passage.  To  the  first  branch  of  science  he  gives 
the  name  of  ^vtriTiyi;  to  the  second  that  of  U^otKriKyi;  to  the 
third,  that  of  2:>j,uj<wt<x.jj,  or  AoyiK>i;  adding,  with  respect 
to  the  word  (p\j<nx,yj,  (or  natural  philosophy)  that  he  em- 
ploys it  to  comprehend,  not  merely  the  knowledge  of 
matter  and  body,  but  also  of  spirits;  the  end  of  this 
branch  being  bare  specuLuive  truth,  and  consequently 
every  subject  belonging  to  it,  which  affords  a  field  of 
speculative  study  to  the  human  faculties. 

To  these  authorities  may  be  added  that  of  Dr.  Camp, 
bell,  who,  after  remarking,  that  "  experience  is  the  prin- 
*'  cipal  organ  of  truth  in  all  the  branches  of  physiology," 
intimates,  "  that  he  employs  this  term  to  comprehend  not 
"  merely  natural  history,  astronomy,  geography,  mechan- 
"  ics,  optics,  hydrostatics,  meteorology,  medicine,  chemis- 
"  try,  but  also  natural  theology  and  psychology,  which" 

*  Wealth  of  Nations,  Vol.  III.  pp.  163,  156,  9th  edit. 


20  PllELIMlNARY  DISSERTATION.  [Chap.  I. 

(he observes),  "have been,  in  his  opinion,  most  unnaturally 
"  disjoined  from  physiology  by  philosophers." — "  Spirit 
(he  adds),  "  which  here  comprises  only  the  Supreme 
*'  Being  and  the  human  Soul,  is  surely  as  much  included 
*'  under  the  notion  of  natural  object,  as  body  is;  and  is 
*'  knowable  to  the  philosopher  purely  in  the  same  way, 
"  by  observation  and  experience."* 

In  what  manner  the  philosophy  of  the  human  mind 
came  to  be  considered  as  a  branch  of  metaphysics,  and 
to  be  classed  with  the  frivolous  sciences  which  are  com- 
monly included  under  the  same  name,  is  well  known  to 
all  who  are  conversant  with  literary  history.  It  may  be 
proper,  however,  to  mention  here,  for  the  information  of 
some  of  my  readers,  that  the  word  Metaphysics  is  of  no 
older  date  than  the  publication  of  Aristotle's  works  by 
Andronicus  of  Rhodes,  one  of  the  learned  men  into 
whose  hands  the  manuscripts  of  that  philosopher  fell, 
after  they  were  brought  by  Sylla  from  Athens  to  Rome. 
To  fourteen  books  in  these  manuscripts,  which  Irad  no 
distinguishing  title,  Andronicus  is  said  to  have  prefixed 
the  words,  Tec  fxiroc  Toi  (pva-iKoc^  either  to  denote  the  place 
which  they  occupied  in  Aristotle's  own  arrangement,  (im- 

*  Philosophy  of  Rhetoric,  Vol.  I.  p.  143  (1st  edit.) — It  were  to  be 
■wished,  that  Locke  and  Campbell,  in  the  passages  quoted  above, 
had  made  use  of  the  word  7«z«f/  instead  of  spirit^  which  seems  to 
imply  a  hypothesis  concerning  the  nature  or  esuence  of  the  sentient 
or  thinking  principle,  altogether  unconnected  with  our  conclusions 
concerning  its  phenomena  and  their  general  laws.  For  the  same 
reason,  I  am  disposed  to  object  to  the  words  Pneumatologxj  and 
Psychology;  the  former  of  which  was  introduced  by  the  schoolmen; 
and  the  latter,  which  appears  to  me  equally  exceptionable,  hps  been 
sanctioned  by  the  authority  of  some  late  writers  of  considerable,  note; 
in  particular  of  Dr.  Campbell,  and  of  Dr.  Beattie. 


Uhtip.  I.;j  PRELIMINARY  DISSERTATION.  .21 

mediately  after  the  physics),  or  to  point  out  that  whicli 
it  appeared  to  the  Editor  they  ought  to  hold  in  the  order 
of  study. 

Notwithstanding  the  miscellaneous  nature  of  these 
books,  the  Peripatetics  seem  to  have  considered  them  as 
all  belonging  to  one  science;  the  great  object  of  which 
they  conceived  to  be,  first,  to  treat  of  those  attributes 
which  are  common  to  Matter  and  to  Mind;  secondly,  of 
things  separate  from  Matter;  particularly  of  God,  and  of 
the  subordinate  Minds  which  they  supposed  to  carry  on 
the  physical  changes  exhibited  in  the  universe.  A  notion 
of  Metaphysics  nearly  the  same  was  adopted  by  the  Peri- 
patetics of  the  Christian  church.  They  distinguished  its 
two  branches  by  the  titles  of  Ontology  and  Natural  The- 
ology; the  former  relating  to  Being  in  general,  the  latter 
to  God  and  to  Angels.  To  these  branches  the  schoolmen 
added  the  Philosophy  of  the  Human  Mind,  as  relating  to 
an  immaterial  substance;  distinguishing  this  last  science 
by  the  title  of  Pneumatology. 

From  this  arrangement  of  Natural  Theology,  and  of  the 
Philosophy  of  the  Human  Mind,  they  were  not  very 
likely  to  prosper,  as  they  gradually  came  to  be  studied 
with  the  same  spirit  as  Ontology,  v/hich  may  safely  be 
pronounced  to  be  the  most  idle  and  absurd  speculation 
that  ever  employed  the  human  faculties.  Nor  has  the  evil 
been  yet  remedied  by  the  contempt  into  which  the  school- 
men have  fallen  in  more  modern  times.  On  the  contrarv, 
as  their  arrangement  of  the  objects  of  Metaphysics  is  still 
very  generally  retained,  the  Philosophy  of  the  Mind  is 
not  unfrequently  understood,  even  by  those  who  have  a 
predilection  for  the  study  of  it,  as  a  speculation  much 
more  analogous  to  Ontology  than  to  Physics;  while,  in 


22  PRELIMINARY  DISSERTATION.  [Cbap.L 

the  public  opinion,  notwithstanding  the  new  aspect  it 
begins  to  assume,  in  consequence  of  the  lights  struck  out 
by  Bacon,  Locke,  and  their  followers,  it  continues  to 
share  largely  in  that  discredit,  which  has  been  justly  in- 
curred by  the  greater  part  of  those  discussions,  to  which, 
in  common  with  it,  the  epithet  Metaphysical  is  indiscrimi- 
nately applied  by  the  multitude. 

I  have  been  led  into  this  detail,  not  from  the  most  dis- 
tant idea  of  proposing  any  alteration  in  that  use  of  the 
words  Metaphysics  and  Physics,  which  has  now  univer- 
sally obtained,  but  merely  to  guard  myself  against  the 
charge  of  affectation  or  singularity,  when  I  so  often  recur 
in  these  pages  to  the  analogy  between  the  inductive 
science  of  Mind,  and  the  inductive  science  of  Matter. 
The  attempt  which  has  been  made  by  some  very  ingeni- 
ous writers  of  late,  to  dispute  the  claims  of  the  former  to 
so  honourable  an  affinity,  must  plead  my  apology  for  the 
length  of  the  preceding  discussion;  as  well  as  for  some  re- 
marks which  I  now  propose  to  offer,  upon  the  arguments 
which  have  been  alleged  in  opposition  to  its  pretensions. 
To  myself,  I  must  own,  that  the  more  I  reflect  on  the 
subject,  the  more  close  and  striking  does  the  analogy 
appear. 


Chap.  11.3  ITIELIMINARY  DISSERTATION.  23 


CHAPTER  SECOND. 

When  I  first  ventured  to  appear  before  the  public  as 
an  author,  I  resolved  that  nothmg  should  ever  induce  me 
to  enter  into  any  controversy  in  defence  of  my  conclusions, 
but  to  leave  them  to  stand  or  to  fall  by  their  own  evidence. 
From  the  plan  of  inductive  investigation  which  I  was  con- 
scious of  having  steadily  followed,  as  far  as  I  was  able,  I 
knew,  that  whatever  mistakes  might  be  detected  in  the 
execution  of  my  design,  no  such  fatal  consequences  were 
to  be  dreaded  to  my  general  undertaking,  as  might  have 
been  justly  apprehended,  had  I  presented  to  the  world  a 
connected  system,  founded  on  gratuitous  hypotheses,  or 
on  arbitrary  definitions.  The  detections,  on  the  contrary, 
of  my  occasional  errors,  would,  I  flattered  myself,  from 
the  invariable  consistency  and  harmony  of  truth,  throw 
new  lights  on  those  inquiries  which  I  had  conducted  with 
greater  success;  as  the  correction  of  a  trifling  misstate- 
ment in  an  authentic  history  is  often  found,  by  complet- 
ing an  imperfect  link,  or  reconciling  a  seeming  contra- 
diction, to  dispel  the  doubts  which  hung  over  the  more 
faithful  and  accurate  details  of  the  narrative. 

In  this  hope,  I  was  fortified  by  the  following  sentence 
of  Lord  Bacon,  which  I  thought  I  might  apply  to  myself 
without  incurring  the  charge  of  presumption.  "  Nos  au- 
"  tem,  si  qua  in  re  vel  male  credidimus,  vel  obdormivimus 
"  et  minus  attendimus,  vel  defecimus  in  via  et  inquisi- 


24  PRELIMINARY  DISSERTATION.  [Chap.  U. 

*' tlonem  abrupimus,  nihilo  minus  iis  modis  res  nu- 
"  DAS  ET  APERTAS  EXHiBEMUs,  ut  crrorcs nostn  iiotari 
*'  et  separari  possint;  atque  etiam,  ut  facilis  et  expedita 
'*  sit  laborum  nostrorum  continuatio." 

As  this  indifference,  however,  about  the  fate  of  my  par- 
ticular doctrines,  arose  from  a  deep-rooted  conviction, 
both  of  the  importance  of  my  subject,  and  of  the  sound- 
ness of  my  plan,  it  was  impossible  for  me  to  be  insensible 
to  such  criticisms  as  were  directed  against  either  of  these 
two  fundamental  assumptions.  Some  criticisms  of  this 
description  I  had,  from  the  first,  anticipated;  and  I  would 
not  have  failed  to  obviate  them  in  the  introduction  to  my 
former  work,  if  I  had  not  been  afraid  to  expose  myself 
to  the  imputation  of  prolixity,  by  conjuring  up  objections 
for  the  purpose  of  refuting  them.  I  longed,  therefore,  for 
an  opportunity  of  being  able  to  state  these  objections  in 
the  less  suspicious  words  of  another;  and  still  more  in  the 
words  of  some  writer,  whose  talents  might  contribute  to 
draw  the  public  attention  to  an  argument,  in  which  I  con- 
ceived the  credit  of  my  favourite  studies  to  be  so  peculi- 
arly interested.  For  such  an  opportunity,  I  am  indebted 
to  a  very  able  article  in  the  Edinburgh  Review;  in  reply- 
ing to  which  I  shall  have  occasion  to  obviate  most  of  the 
objections  which  I  had  foreseen,  as  well  as  various  others 
which,  I  must  own,  had  never  occurred  to  me.^ 

The  censures  which,  in  this  article,  fall  personally  on 
myself,  are  expressed  with  a  delicacy  well  entitled  to  my 
sincere  thanks,  and  are  intermingled  with  many  flatter- 
ing expressions  of  regard  from  my  unknown,  but  friendly 
critic: — and  of  the  more  general  and  weighty  animad- 

*  Edinburgh  Review,  Vol.  Ill,  p.  269,  et  seq. 


Chap.  II.]  PRELIMINARY  DISSERTATION.  25 

versions  on  the  practical  utility  of  my  studies,  I  have  but 
little  reason  to  complain,  when  I  consider,  that  they  apply 
with  equal  force,  not  only  to  such  writers  as  Locke,  Con- 
dillac,  and  Reid,  but,  in  a  far  greater  degree,  to  the  Father 
of  Experimental  Philosophy.  How  exactly  those  views 
of  mine,  which  have,  on  this  occasion,  been  called  in 
question,  coincide  with  the  general  spirit  of  the  JVovutn 
Organuiriy  will,  I  trust,  appear  from  the  following  remarks; 
which  will  amount  much  less  to  a  laboured  defence  of 
my  own  opinions,  than  to  a  correction  of  what  I  conceive 
to  be  a  very  mistaken  representation  of  Lord  Bacon's 
doctrines.f 

"  Inductive  philosophy,"  (we  are  told)  "  or  that  which 
"  proceeds  upon  the  careful  observation  of  facts,  may  be 
"  applied  to  two  different  classes  of  phenomena.  The  first 
"  are  those  that  can  be  made  the  subject  of  proper  experi- 
*'  ment,  where  the  substances  are  actually  in  our  power, 
"  and  the  judgment  and  artifice  of  the  inquirer  can  be  eflec- 
*'  tually  employed  to  arrange  and  combine  them  in  such  a 
"  way  as  to  disclose  their  most  hidden  properties  and  rela- 

t  My  desire  to  obviate  the  effect  of  these  mis-statements  must 
apologize  foi*  the  Latin  extracts  from  Bacon,  with  which  I  am  obliged 
to  load  a  few  pages  of  this  Dissertation.  I  once  intended  to  have  trans- 
lated them;  but  found  myself  quite  unable  to  preserve  the  weighty 
and  authoritative  tone  of  the  original.  There  is  something,  besides 
in  the  ifisissima  verba  employed  by  Bacon,  which  every  person,  much 
conversant  with  his  works,  regards  with  a  sort  of  religious  reve- 
rence; and  which,  certainly,  lays  hold  of  the  imagination  and  of  the 
memory  with  peculiar  facility  and  force.  I  wish,  at  the  same  time, 
most  anxiously  to  see  an  English  version  of  the  Novum  Organum, 
executed  by  some  skilful  hand,  in  order  to  bring  it  within  the  reach 
of  a  more  numerous  class  of  readers.  I  do  not  know  a  more  accept- 
able service  which  any  individual  could  render  to  philosophy;  and  the 
extreme  difficulty  of  the  task,  would  render  it  an  undertaking  worthy 
of  the  greatest  talents. 

D 


26  FIIELIMIN/VRY  DISSERTATION.  [Chap.  U. 

"  tions.  The  other  class  of  phenomena  are  those  that  oc- 
"  cur  in  substances  that  are  placed  altogether  beyond 
"  our  reach,  the  order  and  succession  of  which  we  arc 
"  generally  unable  to  control,  and  as  to  which  we  can  do 
"  little  more  thmi  collect  and  record  the  laws  by  which 
'*  they  appear  to  be  governed.  These  substances  arc  not  the 
^'  object  of  experiment,  but  of  observation;  and  the  know- 
"  ledge  we  may  obtain,  by  carefully  watching  their  varia- 
'*  tions,  is  of  a  kind  that  does  not  directly  increase  the 
**  power  which  we  might  otherwise  have  had  over  them. 
*'  It  seems  evident,  however,  that  it  is  principally  in  the 
*'  former  of  these  departments,  or  the  strict  experimental 
''''philosophy,  that  those  splendid  improvements  have  been 
"  made,  which  have  erected  so  vast  a  trophy  to  the  pro- 
*'  spective  genius  of  Bacon.  The  astronomy  of  sir  Isaac 
"  Newton  is  no  exception  to  this  general  remark;  all 
**  that  mere  observation  could  do  to  determine  the  movc- 
*'  ments  of  the  heavenly  bodies,  had  been  accomplished 
"  by  the  star-gazers  who  preceded  him;  and  the  law  of 
*'  gravitation,  which  he  afterwards  applied  to  the  planetary 
**  system,  was  first  calculated  and  ascertained  by  experi- 
"  ments  performed  upon  substances  which  were  intirely 
"  at  his  disposal. 

"  It  will  scarcely  be  denied,  either,  that  it  is  almost  ex- 
'*  clusively  to  this  department  of  experiment  that  Lord 
**  Bacon  has  directed  the  attention  of  his  followers.  His 
*'  fundamental  maxim  is,  that  knowledge  is  power;  and 
*'  the  great  problem  which  he  constantly  aims  at  resolving, 
"  is,  in  what  manner  the  nature  of  any  substance  or  quality 
"  may,  by  experiment,  be  so  detected  and  ascertained, 
*'  as  to  enable  us  to  manage  it  at  our  pleasure.  The  great- 
**  er  part  of  the  Novum  Organum,  accordingly,  is  taken 


Chap.  11.3  PRELIMINARY  DISSERTATION.  27 

**  up  with  rules  and  examples  for  contriving  and  conduc- 
"  ting  experiments;  and  the  chief  advantage  which  he 
"  seems  to  have  expected  from  the  progress  of  these  in- 
*'  quiries,  appears  to  be  centered  in  the  enlargement  of 
"  man's  dominion  over  the  material  universe  which  he 
*'  inhabits.  To  the  mere  observer,  therefore,  his  laws  of 
"  philosophizing,  except  where  they  are  prohibitory  laws, 
"  have  but  little  application;  and  to  such  an  inquirer,  the 
"  rewards  of  his  philosophy  scarcely  appear  to  have  been 
*'  promised.  It  is  evident,  indeed,  that  no  direct  utility 
**  can  result  from  the  most  accurate  observations  of  oc- 
'*  currences  which  we  cannot  control;  and  that,  for  the 
"  uses  to  which  such  observations  may  afterwards  be 
*'  turned,  we  are  indebted,  not  so  much  to  the  obser- 
"  ver,  as  to  the  person  who  discovered  the  application. 
"  It  also  appears  to  be  pretty  evident,  that,  in  the  art  of 
"  observation  itself,  no  very  great  or  fundamental  im- 
"  provement  can  be  expected.    Vigilance  and  attention 
*'  are  all  that  can  ever  be  required  in  any  observer;  and 
"  though  a  talent  for  methodical  arrangement  may  facili- 
"  tatc  to  others  the  study  of  the  facts  that  have  been  col- 
*'  lected,  it  does  not  appear  how  our  knowledge  of  these 
"  facts  can  be  increased,  by  any  new  method  of  descri- 
"  bing  them.    Facts  that  we  are  unable  to  modify  or  di- 
"  rect,  in  short,  can  only  be  the  objects  of  observation;  and 
"  observation  can  only  inform  us  that  they  exist,  and  that 
"  their  succession  appears  to  be  governed  by  certain  gene- 
''  ral  laws. 

"  In  the  proper  experimental  philosophy,  every  acqui- 
"  sition  of  knowledge  is  an  increase  of  power;  because 
"  the  knowledge  is  necessarily  derived  from  some  inten- 
"  tional  disposition  of  materials,  which  we  may  always 


28  PRELIMINARY  DISSERTATION.  [Chap.  11, 

"  command  in  the  same  manner.  In  the  philosophy  of 
*'  observation,  it  is  merely  a  gratification  of  our  curiosity. 
**  By  experiment,  too,  we  generally  acquire  a  pretty  cor- 
*'  rect  knowledge  of  the  causes  of  the  phenomena  we  pro- 
"  ducc,  as  we  ourselves  distribute  and  arrange  the  cir- 
*'  cumstances  upon  which  they  depend;  while,  in  matters 
"  of  mere  observation,  the  assignment  of  causes  must  al- 
"  ways  be,  in  a  good  degree,  conjectural,  inasmuch  as  we 
*'  have  no  means  of  separating  the  preceding  phenomena, 
"  or  deciding  other\vise  than  by  analogy,  to  which  of  them 
"  the  succeeding  event  is  to  be  attributed." 

As  the  whole  of  this  passage  tends  to  depreciate  the  im- 
portance of  a  very  large  department  of  Physics,  no  less 
than  of  the  science  of  Mind,  the  discussion  to  which  it 
leads  becomes  interesting  to  Philosophers  of  every  de- 
scription; and,  therefore,  it  is  unnecessary  for  me  to  make 
any  apology,  either  for  the  length  of  the  quotation,  or  for 
that  of  the  examination  which  I  propose  to  bestow  on  it. 
It  is  sufficient  for  me  to  remind  my  readers,  that,  in  the 
remarks  which  follow,  I  plead  the  cause  not  only  of  Locke 
and  his  followers,  but  of  such  star-gazers  as  Tycho- 
Brahe,  Kepler,  Galileo,  and  Copernicus. 

That  it  is  by  means  of  experiments,  judiciously  con- 
ducted, that  the  greater  part  of  the  discoveries  in  modern 
physics  have  been  made,  I  readily  admit.  Nay,  I  am  sa- 
tisfied, that  it  is  by  a  skilful  use  of  this  great  organ  of 
investigation,  much  more  than  by  any  improvements  in 
the  art  of  observing  the  spontaneous  appearances  of  the 
universe,  that  the  physical  inquiries  of  Bacon's  followers 
are  chiefly  characterized,  when  contrasted  with  those  of 
the  ancient  schools.  The  astronomical  cycles  handed 
down  to  us  from  the  most  remote  antiquity;  the  immense 


Chap.  II.]  PRELIMINARY  DISSERT ATIOX.  29 

treasure  of  facts  with  respect  to  natural  history,  preserved 
in  the  works  of  Aristotle  and  of  Pliny;  and  the  singular!)^ 
accurate  histories  of  the  phenomena  of  disease,  which 
some  of  the  Greek  physicians  are  allowed  to  have  be- 
queathed to  posterity,  abundantly  justify  the  remark 
which  was  long  ago  made  by  a  medical  writer,  that  *'  if 
"  the  ancients  were  not  accustomed  to  interrogate  Nature, 
"  they,  at  least,  listened  to  her  with  an  unremitted  atten- 
/,*  tion."* 

In  farther  illustration  of  the  utility  of  experiment,  it 
may  be  remarked,  that  in  proportion  as  a  particular 
science  opens  a  field  to  address  and  invention,  in  thus  ex- 
torting the  secrets  of  Nature,  the  rate  of  its  progress  is 
subjected  to  human  genius  and  industry.  What  is  the 
great  cause  of  the  uncertainty  in  which  medicine  conti- 
nues to  be  involved?  Is  it  not,  that,  in  addition  to  the 
difficulties  which  it  has  to  struggle  with,  in  common  with 
the  other  branches  of  physical  knowledge,  it  depends, 
more  than  any  of  the  rest,  upon  accident  for  its  improve- 
ment? The  experimentum  periculosum,  and  judicium  diffi,- 
cile  are  complaints  as  old  as  the  time  of  Hippocrates. 

While,  however,  I  make  this  concession  in  favour  of 
experiment,  as  the  most  powerful  organ  we  can  employ  in 
the  study  of  Nature;  and  admit,  in  their  fullest  extent, 
the  advantages  peculiar  to  those  sciences  in  which  we  can, 
at  pleasure,  avail  ourselves  of  its  aid;  I  must  be  allowed 
to  add,  that  I  am  unable  to  perceive  the  slightest  connec- 
tion between  the  premises  and  the  conclusion  they  have 
been  employed  to  establish.  The  difference  between  ex- 
periment and  observation,  consists  merely  in  the  compara- 

*  Van  Doeveren. 


30  PRELIMINARY  DISSERT ATIOS".  |  Chap.  It. 

tive  rapidity  with  which  they  accomplish  their  discove- 
ries; or  rather  in  the  comparative  command  we  possess 
over  them,  as  instruments  for  the  investigation  of  truth. 
The  discoveries  of  both,  when  they  are  actually  effected, 
are  so  precisely  of  the  same  kind,  that  it  may  safely  be 
affirmed,  there  is  not  a  single  proposition  true  of  the  one, 
which  will  not  be  found  to  hold  equally  with  respect  to 
the  other.  It  ought  to  be  remembered,  too,  that  it  is  in 
hose  branches  of  knowledge,  where  there  is  least  room 
for  experiment,  and  where  the  laws  of  nature  are  only  to 
be  detected  by  cautiously  collecting  and  combining  a  mul- 
titude of  casual  observations,  that  the  merits  of  the  phi- 
losopher are  the  greatest,  where  he  succeeds  in  his  re- 
searches. 

That  the  conclusions  of  the  astronomical  observer, 
with  respect  to  the  laws  by  which  the  phenomena  of  the 
heavens  are  regulated,  contribute,  in  any  degree,  to  ex- 
tend the  sphere  of  his  power  over  the  objects  of  his  study, 
no  star-gazer,  so  far  as  I  know,  has  yet  boasted.  But  have 
these  conclusions  had  no  effect  in  extending  his  power 
over  that  scene  where  he  is  himself  destined  to  be  the 
principal  actor?  Have  they  contributed  nothing  to  the 
progress  of  chronology  and  of  geography;  or  to  the  im- 
provement of  that  art  which,  by  guiding  his  course  across 
the  pathless  ocean,  has  completed  the  empire  of  man  over 
the  globe?  One  thing,  at  least,  is  evident,  that  Newton's 
discovery  of  the  law  of  Gravitation,  notwithstanding  the 
experiments  which  supplied  him  with  some  data  essential 
to  his  results,  has  added  nothing  to  the  power  of  man, 
the  utility  of  which  does  not  resolve  into  the  same  gene- 
ral principle,  with  that  of  the  observations  of  Tycho- 
Brahc,  and  of  Kepler.  The  planetary  system  still  remains 


Chftp.n.3  PRELIMINARY  DISSERTATION'.  31 

as  little  subject  to  our  control  as  before;  and  all  that  we 
have  gained  is,  that,  by  synthetical  reasonings  from  the 
theory  of  gravitation,  we  have  been  enabled  to  ascertain 
various  astronomical  elements  of  the  highest  practical 
utility,  with  a  precision  which  mere  observation  was 
incompetent  to  attain. 

It  is  indeed  true,  "  that  for  the  uses  to  which  astrono- 
"  mical  and  all  other  observations  may  be  turned,  we  are 
*'  indebted,  not  so  mucl>  to  the  observer,  as  to  the  person 
"  who  discovered  the  application."  But  is  not  the  case 
exactly  the  same  with  the  knowledge  we  derive  directly 
from  experiment?  and  what  are  the  respects  in  which 
the  mere  Observer  sinks  below  the  level  of  the  mere 
Empiric? 

With  regard  to  astronomical  observations,  it  must  be 
farther  acknowledged,  that  they  bestow  on  Man  no  vie- 
chanical  power  over  the  heavens,  analogous  to  the  com- 
mand he  has  acquired  over  fire,  water,  steam,  the  strength 
of  the  lower  animals,  and  various  other  physical  agents. 
But  this  is  owing  chiefly  to  the  distances  and  magnitudes 
of  the  objects  to  which  the  astronomer  directs  his  atten- 
tion; circumstances  quite  unconnected  with  any  specific 
difference  between  the  knowledge  acquired  by  observa- 
tion and  by  experiment.  Indeed,  in  the  case  of  the  physical 
agents  first  mentioned,  it  may  be  fairly  questioned,  which 
of  these  two  organs  of  discovery  has  had  the  principal 
share  in  pointing  them  out  to  the  notice  of  mankind. 

In  compensation  for  the  inability  of  the  astronomer  to 
control  those  movements  of  which  he  studies  the  laws, 
he  may  boast,  as  I  already  hinted,  of  the  immense  acces- 
sion of  a  more  useful  power  which  his  discoveries  have 
^dded  to  the  humaa  race,  on  the  surface  of  their  own 


32  PRELIMINARY  DISSERTATION.  [Chap.  II. 

planet.  It  would  be  endless  to  enumerate  all  the  practical 
uses  to  which  his  labours  are  subservient.  It  is  sufficient 
for  me  to  repeat  an  old,  but  very  striking  reflection,  that 
the  only  accurate  knowledge  which  Man  possesses  of  the 
surface  of  the  Earth,  has  been  derived  from  the  previous 
knowledge  he  had  acquired  of  the  phenomena  of  the  Stars. 
Is  it  possible  to  produce  a  more  apposite,  or  a  more  un- 
deniable proof  of  the  universality  of  Bacon's  maxim,  that 
"  knowledge  is  power^^"*  than  a  fact  which  demonstrates 
the  essential  aid  which  man  has  derived,  in  asserting  his 
dominion  over  this  lower  world,  from  a  branch  of  science 
which  seems,  at  first  view,  fitted  only  to  gratify  a  specu- 
lative curiosity;  and  which,  in  its  infancy,  served  to  amuse 
the  leisure  of  the  Chaldean  shepherd?  To  those  who  have 
imbibed  the  spirit  of  Bacon's  philosophy,  it  is  superfluous 
to  add,  that  it  was  in  this  refined  and  enlarged  sense  of 
his  aphorism,  far  more  than  in  its  obvious  and  partial 
application  to  the  new  resources  which  experiments  have 
occasionally  lent  to  the  mechanician,  that  Bacon  himself 
wished  to  be  understood,  when  he  so  often  repeats  it  in 
the  same  words,  with  an  air  of  triumph,  in  the  course  of 
his  writings. 

Let  us  now  attend  to  the  application  which  is  made  of 
thesepreliminary  considerations  to  the  Human  Mind.  "The 
*'  science  of  Metaphysics  (it  is  asserted)  depends  upon  ob- 
*'  servation  and  not  upon  experiment;  and  all  reasonings 
"  upon  Mind  proceed  accordingly  upon  a  reference  to  that 
**  general  observation  which  all  men  are  supposed  to  have 
"  made,  and  not  on  any  particular  experiments,  which  are 
"  known  only  to  the  inventor.  The  province  of  Philoso- 
"  phy  in  this  department,  therefore,  is  the  province  of 
"  observation  only;  and  in  this  department  the  greater 


Chap.  n.J  PRELIMINARY  DISSERTATION.  33 

"  part  of  that  code  of  laws,  which  Bacon  has  provided 
"  for  the  regulation  of  experimental  induction,  is  plainly 
*'  without  authority.  In  Metaphysics^  certainly  knowledge 
"  is  not  power;  and  instead  of  producing  new  phenomena 
**  to  elucidate  the  old,  by  well-contrived  and  well-con- 
**  ducted  experiments,  the  most  diligent  inquirer  can  do. 
"  no  more  than  register  and  arrange  the  appearances, 
"  which  he  can  neither  account  for  nor  control." — 

In  proof  of  this,  it  is  alleged,  that  "  we  feel,  and  pcr- 
"  ceive,  and  remember,  without  any  purpose  or  contriv- 
"  ance  of  ours,  and  have  evidently  no  power  over  the 
"  mechanism  by  which  those  functions  are  performed. 
"  We  may  describe  and  distinguish  those  operations  of 
"  mind,  indeed,  with  more  or  less  attention  or  exactness, 
"  but  we  cannot  subject  them  to  experiment,  nor  waiter 
"  their  nature  by  any  process  of  investigation.  We  cannot 
"  decompose  our  perceptions  in  a  crucible,  nor  divide 
"  our  sensations  with  a  prism;  nor  can  we,  by  art  and 
"  contrivance,  produce  any  combination  of  thoughts  or 
"  emotions,  besides  those  with  which  all  men  are  provi- 
"  ded  by  nature.  No  metaphysician  expects,  by  analysis, 
"  to  discover  a  new  power,  or  to  excite  a  new  sensation 
"  in  the  mind,  as  a  chemist  discovers  a  new  earth,  or  a 
"  new  metal;  nor  can  he  hope,  by  any  process  of  synthe- 
"  sis,  to  exhibit  a  mental  combination,  different  from  any 
*'  that  nature  has  produced  in  the  minds  of  other  persons." 

So  far  as  this  reasoning  proceeds  merely  on  the  alleged 
inferiority  of  observation  to  experiment,  as  a  source  of 
power,  or  of  useful  knowledge,  I  have  nothing  to  add,  in 
the  way  of  refutation,  to  what  I  have  already  advanced. 
Supposing  all  the  knowledge  we  possess  of  mind  to  be 
derived  from  observation  solely,  it  would  not  therefore 


3^'"  PUELIMINARY  DI9SERTAT10X.  [Chap.  H. 

f6ll'6^,  that  the  Philosophy  of  Mind  must  necessarily 
yield  to  Physics  in  practical  utility.  The  difficulty  of  the 
study  Would,  indeed,  appear  proportionally  greater;  but 
no  inference  could  fairly  be  drawn,  from  this  circum- 
stance, to  depreciate  the  value  of  the  conclusions  to 
which  it  might  lead. 

But  is  it,  indeed,  true,  in  the  full  latitude  of  the  critic's 
assertion,  that  "  the  science  of  Metaphysics,"* — (mean- 
ing by  that  phrase,  the  Philosophy  of  the  Human  Mind) 
"  depends  upon  observation,  and  not  upon  experiment?'* 
Even,  in  the  case  of  our  perceptions^  the  most  favourable 
by  far  for  his  purpose,  which  he  could  possibly  have  se- 
lected, this  proposition  seems  to  me  altogether  unfounded. 
We  cannot,  indeed,  decompose  them  in  a  crucible,  in 
the  literal  sense  of  these  words;  but  is  there  no  possi- 
bility of  decomposing  them  by  such  experimental  pro- 
cesses as  are  suited  to  the  nature  of  the  subject?  Of  this 
no  better  proof  can  be  given  than  Berkeley's  Theory  of 
Vision,  more  particularly  his  analysis  of  the  means  by 
ivhich  experience  enables  us  to  judge  of  the  distances 
^nd  magnitudes  of  objects.  It  is,  at  least,  an  attempt 
towards  an  experimental  decomposition  of  our  percep- 
tions; and,  in  my  opinion  (although  I  have  always 
thought  that  a  good  deal  is  still  wanting  to  render  the 

*  A  fter  what  I  have  already  said  on  the  vagueness  of  the  word 
Metaphysics,  and  the  futility  of  most  of  the  studies  which  are  refer- 
red to  that  very  comprehensive  title,  it  is  scarcely  necessary  for  me 
to  add,  that,  in  controverting  the  position  which  has  just  been  quo- 
ted, I  would  be  understood  to  confine  my  remarks  solely  to  the  in- 
duc'ive  Philosofihy  of  the  Human  Mind.  That  this  was  the  science 
which  the  writer  had  in  his  eye,  when  he  asserted,  that  "  meta- 
physics, depend  upon  observation,  and  not  upon  experiment,"  ap- 
pears manifestly  from  the  whole  of  the  context. 


Chap.  II.]  PRELIMINARY  DISSERTATION,  S5 

theory  completely  satisfactory)  a  most  successful,  as  well 
as  original  attempt,  so  far  as  it  goes.  Numberless  illus- 
trations of  the  same  thing  might  be  produced  from  the 
subsequent  speculations  of  Smith,  Jurin,  Porterfield, 
Reid,  and  others,  with  respect  to  those  phenomena  of 
vision  which  are  immediately  connected  with  the  Philo- 
sophy of  the  Mind.  Nor  is  it  to  this  class  of  our  per- 
ceptions alone,  that  the  experimental  researches  of  our 
predecessors  have  been  confined.  To  draw  the  line  be- 
tween the  original  and  acquired  perceptions  which  we 
receive  by  some  of  our  other  senses,  more  especially  by 
those  of  hearing  and  of  feeling,  is  a  problem  equally  dif- 
ficult and  interesting;  and  of  which  no  pretended  solution 
would,  in  the  present  times,  attract  one  moment's  notice, 
which  rested  on  any  other  basis  than  that  of  experiment. 

I  have  confined  myself,  in  what  I  have  now  $aid,  to 
the  researches  of  inductive  philosophy  concerning  our 
perceptions;  because  this  is  the  instance  which  the  critic 
himself  has  thought  proper  to  fix  upon.  The  extensive 
province,  however,  of  experiment  in  the  science  pf  min4, 
will  appear  in  an  incomparably  stronger  light  to  those 
who  shall  follow  out  the  subject,  by  observing  the  use 
which  has  been  made  of  this  organ  of  investigation,  in 
analysing  the  phenomena  connected  >vith  some  of  our 
other  intellectual  powers; — the  phenomena,  for  example, 
of  Attention,  of  Association,  of  Habit  in  general,  of  Me- 
mory, of  Imagination;  and,  above  all,  those  which  are 
connected  with  the  use  of  Language,  considered  as  ai^ 
instrument  of  thought  and  of  reasoning. 

The  whole  of  a  Philosopher's  life,  indeed,  if  he  spends 
it  to  any  purpose,  is  one  continued  series  of  experiments 
on  his  own  faculties  and  powers;  and  the  superiority  he 


36  PRELIMINARY  DISSERTATION.  [Chap.  Ih 

possesses  over  others,  in  a  skilful  application  of  them, 
arises  chiefly  from  the  general  rules  (never,  perhaps,  ex- 
pressed verbally  even  to  himself)  which  he  has  deduced 
from  these  experiments; — experiments,  it  must  be  grant- 
ed, not  carried  on  by  such  instruments  as  prisms  or  cru- 
cibles, but  by  an  apparatus  better  suited  to  the  intellec- 
tual laboratory  which  furnishes  their  materials.  Of  this 
remark  I  hope  to  be  able  to  produce  some  new  illustra- 
tions, in  that  part  of  the  following  volume,  in  which  I 
propose  to  examine  the  process  by  which  the  acquired 
power  of  Taste  is  gradually  formed. 

As  to  the  minds  of  others,  it  is  undoubtedly  but  seL 
dom  that  we  have  the  means  of  subjecting  them  to  for- 
mal and  premeditated  experiments.  But  even  here,  many 
exceptions  occur  to  the  general  assertion  which  I  am  now 
combating.    What  is  the  whole  business  of  Education, 
when  systematically  and  judiciously  conducted,  but  aprac- 
tical  application  of  rules  deduced  from  our  own  experi- 
ments, or  from  those  of  others,  on  the  most  effectual 
modes  of  developing  and  of  cultivating  the  intellectual 
faculties  and  the  moral  principles?  I  lay  but  little  stress, 
comparatively,  on  those  rare,  though  inestimable  oppor- 
tunities of  gratifying  an  experimental  curiosity,  which 
are  presented  by  the  Blind  and  the  Deaf,  when  they  are 
qualified  to  give  a  distinct  account  of  their  peculiar  per- 
ceptions, feelings,  and  habits  of  thought;  nor  on  such 
extraordinary  cases  as  that  of  the  young  man  couched 
by  Cheselden,  whose  simple  and  intelligent  statement  of 
what  he  experienced  on  his  first  introduction  to  the  visi- 
ble world,  discovers  powers  of  observation  and  of  reflec- 
tion, as  well  as  of  clear  description,  which  do  not  appear 


Chap,  n.]  PRELIMINARY  DISSERTATION.  37 

to  have  been  equalled  in  any  of  the  similar  instances 
which  have  since  occurred. 

To  counterbalance  the  disadvantages  which  the  Philo- 
sophy of  Mind  lies  under,  in  consequence  of  its  slender 
stock  of  experiments,  made  directly  and  intentionally  on 
the  minds  of  our  fellow- creatures.  Human  Life  exhibits 
to  our  observation  a  boundless  variety,  both  of  intellec- 
tual and  moral  phenomena;  by  a  diligent  study  of  which, 
we  may  ascertain  almost  every  point  that  we  could  wish 
to  investigate,  if  we  had  experiments  at  our  command. 
The  difference  between  observation  and  experiment,  in 
this  instance,  considered  as  sources  of  knowledge,  is 
merely  nominal;  amounting  to  nothing  more  than  this, 
that  the  former  presents  spontaneously  to  a  comprehen- 
sive and  combining  understanding,  results  exactly  similar 
to  those,  which  the  latter  would  attempt  to  ascertain  by 
a  more  easy  and  rapid  process,  if  it  possessed  the  oppor- 
tunity. Hardly,  indeed,  can  any  experiment  be  imagined, 
which  has  not  already  been  tried  by  the  hand  of  Nature; 
displaying,  in  the  infinite  varieties  of  human  genius  and 
pursuits,  the  astonishingly  diversified  efiects,  resulting 
from  the  possible  combinations  of  those  elementary  fa- 
culties and  principles,  of  which  every  man  is  conscious 
in  himself.  Savage  society,  and  all  the  different  modes 
of  civilization; — the  different  callings  and  professions  of 
individuals,  M^hether  liberal  or  mechanical; — the  pre- 
judiced clown; — the  factitious  man  of  fashion; — the  va- 
rying phases  of  character  from  infancy  to  old  age; — the 
prodigies  effected  by  human  art  in  all  the  objects  around 
us; — laws, — government, — commerce, — religion; — but 
above  all,  the  records  of  thought,  preserved  in  those  vol- 
umes which  fill  our  libraries;  what  are  they  but  experi- 


38  PRELIMINARY  DISSERTATION.  [Chap.  Dn 

ments,  by  which  Nature  illustrates,  for  our  instruction, 
on  her  own  grand  scale,  the  varied  range  of  Man's  intel- 
lectual faculties,  and  the  omnipotence  of  Education  in 
fashioning  his  mind? 

As  to  the  remark,  that  "  no  metaphysician  expects, 
by  "analysis,  to  discover  a  new  power,  or  to  excite  a 
"  new  sensation  in  the  mind,  as  the  chemist  discovers  a 
"  new  earth  or  a  new  metal,"  it  is  abundantly  obvious, 
that  it  is  no  more  applicable  to  the  anatomy  of  the  mind, 
than  to  the  anatomy  of  the  body.  After  all  the  researches 
of  physiologists  on  this  last  subject,  both  in  the  way  of 
observation  and  of  experiment,  no  discovery  has  yet  been 
made  of  a  new  organ,  either  of  power  or  of  pleasure,  or 
even  of  the  means  of  adding  a  cubit  to  the  human  sta- 
ture; but  it  does  not  therefore  follow  that  these  researches 
are  useless.  By  enlarging  his  knowledge  of  his  own  in- 
ternal structure,  they  increase  the  power  of  man  in  that 
way  in  which  alone  they  profess  to  increase  it.  They 
furnish  him  with  resources  for  remedying  many  of  the 
accidents  to  which  his  health  and  his  life  are  liable;  for 
recovering,  in  some  cases,  those  active  powers  which 
disease  has  destroyed  or  impaired;  and,  in  others,  by 
giving  sight  to  the  blind,  and  hearing  to  the  deaf,  for 
awakening  powers  of  perception  which  were  dormant  be- 
fore. Nor  must  we  overlook  what  they  have  contributed, 
in  conjunction  with  the  arts  of  the  optician  and  of  the 
mechanist,  to  extend  the  sphere  of  those  senses,  and  to 
prolong  their  duration. 

If  we  consider,  in  like  manner,  the  practical  purposes 
to  which  the  anatomy  of  the  Mind  is  subservient,  we 
shall  find  the  parallel  infinitely  to  its  advantage.  What 
has  Medicine  yet  effected  in  increasing  the  bodily  pow- 


Chap. ».]  PRELIMINARY  DISSERTATION.  39 

ers  of  man,  in  remedying  his  diseases,  or  in  lengthening 
life,  which  can  bear  a  moment's  comparison  widi  the 
prodigies  effected  by  Education,  in  invigorating  his  in- 
tellectual capacities;  in  forming  his  moral  habits;  in  deve- 
loping his  sensitive  principles;  and  in  unlocking  all  the 
hidden  sources  of  internal  enjoyment?  Nor  let  ti  be  ob- 
jected, that  education  is  not  a  branch  of  the  Philosophy 
of  the  Human  Mind.  So  far  as  it  is  effectual  and  salutary, 
it  is  founded  on  those  principles  of  our  nature  which 
have  forced  themselves  on  general  observation,  in  conse- 
quence of  the  experience  of  ages.  So  far  as  it  is  injudi- 
cious and  hurtful,  it  proceeds  upon  speculative  errors 
and  prejudices,  which  juster  views  of  the  Philosophy  of 
the  Mind  can  alone  correct.  Would  it  not  necessarily  be 
rendered  more  systematical  and  enlightened,  if  the  pow- 
ers and  faculties  on  which  it  operates,  were  more  scien- 
tifically examined,  and  better  understood?  The  medical 
art,  it  must  be  remembered,  had  made  no  inconsiderable 
progress,  before  anatomy  was  regarded  as  a  necessary 
preparation  for  the  study.  It  is  disputed,  whether  Hip- 
pocrates himself  ever  dissected  a  human  subject;  and 
Galen  is  said  to  have  undertaken  a  journey  to  Alexan- 
dria, merely  to  gratify  his  curiosity  by  the  sight  of  a 
skeleton. 

It  is  curious,  that  the  objection  which  we  are  now  con- 
sidering to  the  Philosophy  of  the  Mind,  is  the  very  same 
in  substance  with  that  which  Socrates  urged  against  the 
speculations  of  natural  philosophers  in  his  age.  "  He 
"  would  ask,'*  (says  Xenophon)  "  concerning  these  busy 
^'  inquirers  into  the  nature  of  such  things  as  are  only  to 
**  be  produced  by  a  divine  power, — whether,  as  those 
"  artists  who  have  been  instructed  in  some  art,  believe 


40  PRELIMINARY  DISSERTATION.  [Chap.  II. 

"  they  are  able  to  practise  it  at  pleasure,  so  they,  having 
"  found  out  the  immediate  cause,  believe  they  shall  be 
**  able,  for  their  own  benefit,  or  that  of  others,  to  pro- 
"  duce  winds  and  rain,  the  vicissitudes  of  time,  or  the 
"  change  of  seasons?  or  if,  indeed,  altogether  destitute  of 
*'  this  hope,  they  could  content  themselves  with  such 
^''fruitless  knowledge? 

"  As  for  himself,  Man,  and  what  related  to  Man,  were 
•'  the  only  subjects  on  which  he  chose  to  employ  his  in- 
"  quiries  and  his  conversation."* 

I  have  quoted  these  sentences,  chiefly  as  they  afford 
me  an  opportunity  of  remarking,  that,  whereas  the  scep- 
ticism of  modern  Europe  has  been  confined,  in  a  great 
measure,  to  the  Philosophy  of  Mind,  that  of  antiquity 
was  directed  more  particularly  to  the  theories  which  pre- 
tended to  explain  the  phenomena  of  the  Material  Universe. 
That  Socrates,  with  all  his  zeal  for  the  advancement  of 
Moral  Science,  was  a  complete  sceptic  in  what  is  now 
called  Physics,  appears  sufficiently  from  the  account 
given  of  his  studies  in  the  first  chapter  of  the  Memora- 
bilia. Nor  will  this  seem  at  all  surprising  to  those  who  re- 
flect on  the  unprofitable  questions,  about  which  (as  we 
learn  from  the  same  authority)  the  inquiries  of  Natural 
Philosophers  were  then  employed.  After  the  physical  dis- 
coveries, indeed,  which  have  distinguished  the  two  last 
centuries,  the  scepticism  of  this  truly  wise  man  is  apt  to 
strike  us,  at  first  sight,  as  altogether  weak  and  puerile; 
but  does  not  this  very  consideration  afford  to  those,  who 
now  cultivate  the  inductive  Philosophy  of  Mind,  some 

*  Translation  of  the  Memorabilia,  by  Mrs.  Fielding.  For  the  rest  of 
the  passage  (to  which  no  ver^on  can  do  justice)  I  must  refer  to  thr 
oviginal, 

2 


(jbap.  11.]  PRELIMINARY  DISSERTATION.  41 

ground  of  hope,  that  the  day  may  yet  come,  when  a  juster 
estimate  will  be  formed  of  the  value  of  their  hibours? 

It  is  not,  however,  on  future  contingencies  that  I  will 
rest  my  present  argument.  Notwithstanding  the  obscu- 
rity and  uncertainty  which  continue  to  involve  various 
important  questions  connected  with  the  theory  of  our  in- 
ternal frame,  I  do  not  scruple  to  contrast,  as  an  organ  of 
Human  Power  and  of  Human  Happiness,  the  Science  of 
Mind,  even  in  its  present  state  of  infancy,  with  the  disco- 
veries which  have  immortalized  the  names  of  Boyle  and 
of  Newton.  Nor  will  this  assertion  seem  extravagant  or 
paradoxical,  if  the  following  profoimd  observations  of 
Bacon  be  compared  with  the  value  of  that  gift  which  he 
himself  bequeathed  to  posterity. 

"  Non  abs  re  fuerit,  tria  hominum  ambitionis  genera  et 
quasi  gradus  distinguere.  Primum  eorum,  qui  propriam 
potentiam  in  patria  sua  amplificare  cupiunt;  quod  genus 
vulgare  est  et  degener.  Secundum  eorum,  qui  patriae 
potentiam  et  imperium  inter  humanum  genus  amplifi- 
care nituntur:  illud  plus  certe  habet  dignitatis,  cupidi- 
tatis  baud  minus.  Quod  si  quis  humani  generis  ipsius 
potentiam  et  imperium  in  rerum  universitatem  instau- 
rare  et  amplificare  conetur;  ea  proculdubio  ambitio  (si 
modo  ita  vocanda  sit)  reliquis  et  sanior  est  et  augus- 
tior.  Hominis  autem  imperium  in  res,  in  solis  artibus  et 
scientiis  ponitur.   Nature  enim  non   imperatuk, 

NISI   PARENDO.*' 

"  Prseterea,  si  unius  alicujus  particularis  inventi  utili- 
tas  ita  homines  affecerit,  ut  eum,  qui  genus  humanum 
universum  beneficio  aliquo  devincire  potuerit,  homine 
majorem  putaverint,  quanto  celsius  videbitur,  tale  ali- 

F 


42  PllELlAUNAUV  DISSKRIA  riONT.  [Chap.  U. 

*'  quid  invenirc,  per  quod  alia  omnia  expedite  inveniri  pos- 
'*  sint." 

In  order  to  depreciate  the  philosophical  merits  of  Bacon^ 
I- have  sometimes  heard  an  enumeration  attempted,  of  im- 
portant discoveries  which  have  been  made,  since  the  pub- 
lication of  the  Novum  Organum,  by  individuals  who  ne- 
ver read  that  work;  nor,  in  all  probability,  were  aware  of 
its  existence.  The  alleged  fact,  on  which  this  argument 
proceeds,  I  am  not  disposed  to  controvert;  for,  granting 
it  in  its  fullest  extent,  little  stress  will  be  laid  on  it  by 
those  who  have  duly  attended  to  the  slow  and  indirect 
process  by  which  the  influence  of  such  writings  as  those 
of  Bacon  must  necessarily  descend,  from,  the  higher  to  the 
lower  classes  of  intellectual  workmen.  Their  immediate 
operation  cannot  possibly  extend  beyond  the  narrow  cir- 
cle of  inquirers,  who,  to  an  enlarged  and  unprejudiced 
understanding,  add  the  rare  capacity  of  entering  into  ab- 
stract and  general  reasonings.  In  the  investigations  of  this 
small  and  select  class  of  readers,  the  logical  rules  to  which 
these  reasonings  lead,  are,  in  the  first  instance,  exempli- 
fied; and  when  the  example  has  once  been  set,  it  may  be 
successfully  copied  by  thousands  who  never  heard  of  the 
rules,  nor  are  capable  of  comprehending  the  principles  on 
which  they  are  founded.  It  is  in  this  manner  that  the  par- 
amount influence  of  the  Philosophy  of  Mind,  on  the  sub- 
ordinate sciences  and  arts,  escapes  the  notice  of  those 
who  are  unable  to  look  beyond  palpable  and  proximate 
causes;  and  who  forget  that,  in  the  intellectual  as  well  as 
in  the  material  world,  whatever  is  accomplished  by  the 
division  and  distribution  of  labour,  must  be  ultimately 
referred  to  the  comprehensive  design  of  the  mechanist, 
who  planned  and  combined  the  whole. 


Chap.  II.]  PRELIMINARY  DISSERTATION.  4S 

Of  this  disposition  to  detract  from  Bacon's  fame,  I  cer- 
tainly do  not  mean  to  accuse  the  learned  and  ingenious 
writer  who  has  given  occasion  to  these  strictures,  and 
who  acknowledges  fairly,  the  mighty  influence  which  Ba- 
con's works  have  had  on  the  subsequent  progress  of  ex- 
perimental science.  I  must  own,  however,  that,  in  my 
opinion,  he  would  have  reasoned  more  consistently,  if  he 
had  asserted  the  contrary;  for,  after  this  admission,  how 
is  it  possible  that  he  should  dispute  the  practical  utility 
of  the  Philosophy  of  the  Mind;  the  improvement  of  which 
is  manifestly  the  great  object  of  Bacon,  from  the  begin- 
ning to  the  end  of  his  work?  If,  in  reply  to  this,  it  should 
be  argued,  that  the  Philosophy  of  the  Mind  means  some- 
thing different  from  what  is  commonly  called  Metaphy- 
sics; I  have  only  to  express  my  complete  assent  to  the 
justness  of  the  distinction;  and  my  regret,  that,  after  the 
repeated  attempts  I  have  made  to  illustrate  it,  an  advan- 
tage should,  in  one  or  two  passages  of  this  article,  have 
been  taken  of  the  vagueness  of  popular  language,  to  dis- 
credit, by  means  of  an  obnoxious  appellation,  one  of  the 
most  important,  and,  at  the  same  time,  one  of  the  most 
neglected  departments  of  human  knowledge. 

To  what  branch  of  science  Lord  Bacon  himself  con- 
ceived the  speculations  in  the  Novum  Organum  to  belong, 
appears  from  various  passages  which  it  contains.  One  of 
these  is  more  particularly  remarkable,  as  it  explicitly 
guards  the  readers  of  that  work  against  inferring,  from 
the  multiplicity  of  physical  illustrations  with  which  it 
abounds,  that  his  object  is  to  instruct  them  with  respect 
to  the  phenomena  of  matter,  when  his  real  aim  is  to  de- 
duce, from  the  laws  of  the  Human  Mind,  such  logical 
rules  as  may  guide  them  in  the  search  of  truth. 


44  PRELIMINARY  DISSERTATION.  [Chap.  11. 

"  Illud  vero  monendum,  nos  in  hoc  nostro  organo  trac- 
*'  tare  logicam,  non  philosophiam.  Sed  cum  logica  nostra 
"  doceat  intellectum  et  erudiat  ad  hoc,  ut  non  tcnuibus 
"  mentis  quasi  claviculis,  rerum  abstracta  captet  et  pren- 
"  set  (ut  logica  vulgaris);  sed  naturam  revera  persecet,  et 
"  corporum  virtutes  et  actus,  eorumque  leges  in  materia 
"  determinatas  inveniat;  ita  ut  non  solum  ex  natura  men- 
*'  tisj  sed  ex  natura  rerum  quoque  haec  scientia  emanet: 
"  mirari  non  est,  si  ubique  naturalibus  contemplationibus 
"  et  experimentis,  ad  exempla  artis  nostrce,  conspersa 
"  fuerit  et  illustrata." 

It  is  perfectly  manifest  from  the  context,  that  hy  philo- 
sophy Lord  Bacon  here  means  the  particular  branches  of 
the  study  of  Nature,  in  oppposition  to  that  science  (one 
of  the  most  important  departments  of  the  philosophy  of 
the  mind)  which  professes  to  comprehend  them  all  in  its 
survey,  and  to  furnish  the  means  of  their  advancement. 
To  this  science  he  elsewhere  gives  the  name  of  Philoso- 
phia  Prima;  pointing  out,  by  a  happy  and  beautiful  allu- 
sion, its  pre-eminence  among  the  rest,  both  in  dignity  and 
in  practical  importance. 

"  Alius  error  est,  quod  post  singulas  scientias  et  artes 
"  suas  in  classes  distributas,  mox  a  plerisque  universali 
"  rerum  cognitioni  et  philosophic  primce  renunciatur; 
*'  quod  quidem  profectui  doctrinarum  inimicissimum  est. 
*'  Prospectationes  fiunt  a  turribus,  aut  locis  prsealtis,  et 
"  impossibile  est,  ut  quis  exploret  remotiores  interiores- 
"  que  scientiae  alicujus  partes,  si  stet  super  piano  ejus- 
"  dem  scientiae,  neque  altioris  scientise  veluti  speculum 
*'  conscendat." 

That  Bacon's  philosophy,  too,  was  constantly  present 
to  my  thoughts,  when  I  have  dwelt,  in  any  of  my  publi- 


ehap.n.]  PRELIMINARY   DISSERTATION.  45 

cations,  on  the  importance  of  the  philosophy  of  the  hu- 
man mind,  must  be  evident  to  all  who  have  read  them 
with  attention.  In  proof  of  this,  I  shall  only  appeal,  at  pre- 
sent, to  the  illustrations  I  have  given  of  the  utility  of  the 
study,  in  the  introduction  to  my  former  volume.  The 
*'  sanguine  and  extravagant  expectations"  which  I  am 
accused  of  having  formed,  with  respect  to  the  advantages 
likely  to  result  from  its  future  improvement,  will  be  found, 
from  every  page  of  my  book,  to  resolve  chiefly  into  a  con- 
viction (founded  on  the  astonishing  success  with  which 
the  labours  of  Bacon's  followers  have  been  attended),  that 
much  may  yet  be  done  to  direct  and  accelerate  the  progress 
of  the  mind,  by  completing  that  undertaking  to  which  he 
gave  a  beginning.  When  we  reflect  on  the  low  state  in 
which  even  physical  science,  strictly  so  called,  was  at  the 
period  when  he  attempted  to  lay  down  the  rules  accord- 
ing to  which  philosophical  inquiries  ought  to  be  prose- 
cuted, this  conviction  cannot  well  appear  either  very  un- 
natural or  very  romantic. 

But  it  is  not  merely  as  an  orgajion  for  the  advance- 
ment of  physics,  that  the  science  of  mind  is  valuable.  It 
furnishes,  in  itself,  a  field  of  study,  equally  interesting 
and  important;  and  far  more  intimately  connected  than  is  ' 
commonly  supposed,  with  all  the  arts  which  contribute 
to  the  stability,  to  the  ornament,  and  to  the  happiness  of 
civilized  society. 

How  far  this  assertion  is  agreeable  to  Bacon's  own 
views;  or  whether  it  be  true,  as  has  been  affirmed,  that 
"  the  chief  advantage  which  he  expected  from  his  inqui- 
"  ries,  appears  to  have  been  centered  in  the  enlargement 
"of  man's  dominion  over  the  material  universe," — can 
be  decided  only  by  an  appeal  to  his  writings.  Whatever 


46  PRELIMINARY   DISSERTATION.  [Clmp.  II. 

opinion  wc  may  adopt  on  this  point,  it  must  be  granted 
on  both  sides,  not  only  that,  in  the  occasional  passages 
where  he  touches  on  the  science  of  mind,  his  observa- 
tions are  just  and  profound,  but  that  the  whole  of  his 
philosophical  works  form  one  continued  exemplification 
of  the  plan  on  which  this  study  ought  to  be  conducted. 
— Here  we  meet  with  no  hypothesis  concerning  the  es- 
sence of  the  mind,  or  the  nature  of  its  connection  with 
our  bodily  organization;  but  with  a  few  important  con- 
clusions concerning  the  human  understanding,  obtained 
by  a  cautious  induction  from  xhost  phenomeria  of  thought, 
which  every  man  may  ascertain  by  reflecting  on  the  sub- 
jects of  his  own  consciousness.  Although  it  should  be 
contended,  therefore,  that  the  advancement  of  the  philo- 
sophy of  mind  was  but  a  subordinate  object  in  Bacon's 
general  plan,  it  cann-jt  possibly  be  disputed,  that  it  is  to 
his  singularly  just  views  on  the  subject,  that  we  are  in- 
debted for  all  the  scientific  aids  we  have  derived  from 
his  genius. 

Whether  Bacon  himself  considered  the  utility  of  his 
Organwn  as  exclusively  confined  to  inquiries  relating  to 
the  material  universe,  and  had  no  view  to  its  application 
in  guiding  our  analytical  researches  concerning  the  in- 
tellectual faculties  or  active  principles  of  the  mind,  may 
be  judged  of  from  his  own  words. 

"  Eiiam  dubitabit  quispiam  potius  quam  objiciet; 
"  utrum  nos  de  naturali  tantum  philosophia,  an  etiam  de 
*'  scientiis  reliquis,  logicis,  ethicis,  politicis,  secundum 
"  viam  nostram  perficiendis  loquamur.  At  nos  certe  de 
*'  universis  hcec,  quae  dicta  sunt,  intelligimus:  Atque 
'*  quemadmodum  vulgaris  logica,  quai  regit  res  per  syllo- 
•'  gismum,  non  tantum  ad  Naturales,  sed  ad  omnes  scien- 


eijap.  11.]  PRELIMINARY   DISSERTATION.  47 

*'  tias  pertinet;  ita  et  nostra,  quas  procedit  per  induc- 
"  tionem,  omnia  complectitur.  Tarn  enim  historiam  et 
"  tabulas  inveniendi  conficimus  de  ira^  mefM,  et  verecun- 
"  dia,  elsimilibus;  ac  etiam  de  exemplis  rerum  civilium; 
"  nee  minus  de  niotibus  metalibus  memorice^  composi- 
"  fy,Qnis  et  divisionis^Juclicii,  et  reliquorum;  quam  de  calidoy 
"  etjrig'ido  aut  iuce^  aut  vegetatione^  aut  similibus." 

The  effects  which  Bacon's  writings  have  hitherto  pro- 
duced, have  indeed  been  far  more  conspicuous  in  physics 
than  in  the  science  of  mind.  Even  here,  however,  they 
have  been  great  and  most  important,  as  well  as  in  some 
collateral  branches  of  knowledge  (such  as  natural  juris- 
prudence, political  economy,  criticism,  and  morals)  which 
spring  up  from  the  same  root,  or  rather  which  are  branches 
of  that  tree  of  which  the  science  of  mind  is  the  trunk. 
Of  the  truth  of  this  assertion  1  shall  afterwards  have  oc- 
casion to  produce  abundant  evidence. 

That  our  conclusions  concerning  the  principles  and 
laws  of  the  human  constitution  differ,  in  many  respects, 
from  discoveries  in  physics,  I  do  not  deny;  nor  will  I  enter 
into  a  verbal  dispute  with  those  who  maintain  that  the 
word  discovery  is  in  no  sense  applicable  to  these  conclu- 
sions. It  is  sufficient  for  my  purpose  to  remark,  that  this 
criticism,  admitting  it  to  be  just,  ought  not,  in  any  res- 
pect, to  lower  our  estimate  of  their  practical  value,  or  of 
the  merits  of  the  writers  to  whom  we  owe  them.  Among 
Bacon's  Aphorisms  there  is  not  one  single  sentenoe  which 
contains  a  discovery,  as  that  word  has  been  lately  defined; 
but  what  discoveries  can  vie  with  them  in  the  accessions 
which  they  have  brought  to  the  happiness  and  to  the  power 
of  the  human  race?* 

*  D*Alembert  was  one  of  the  first  who  insisted  on  this  nicety  in. 


48  PRELIMINAUY   DISSERTATION.  [Chap.  U 

In  farther  prosecution  of  the  argument  against  the 
importance  of  the  science  of  mind,  it  has  been  observed, 
that  "  from  the  very  nature  of  the  subject,  it  seems  neces- 
"  sarily  to  follow,  that  all  men  must  be  practically  familiar 
"  with  all  the  functions  and  qualities  of  their  minds,  and 
"  with  almost  all  the  laws  by  which  they  appear  to  be 
"  governed.  Every  one  knows  exactly  what  it  is, to  per- 
"  ceive  and  to  feel,  to  remember,  imagine,  and  believe; 
"  and  though  he  may  not  always  apply  the  words  that  de- 
*'  note  these  operations  with  perfect  propriety,  it  is  not 
"  possible  to  suppose  that  any  one  is  ignorant  of  the  things. 
"  Even  those  laws  of  thought  or  connections  of  mental' 
"  operations  that  are  not  so  commonly  stated  in  words, 
**  appear  to  be  universally  known,  and  are  found  to  regu- 
"  late  the  practice  of  those  who  never  thought  of  announ- 
*'  cing  them  in  an  abstract  proposition.  A  man  who  never 
*'  heard  it  asserted,  that  memory  depends  upon  attention, 
*'  yet  attends  with  uncommon  care  to  any  thing  that  he 
*'  wishes  to  remember;  and  accounts  for  his  forgetfulness, 
*'  by  acknowledging  that  he  had  paid  no  attention.  A  groom 
**  who  never  heard  of  the  association  of  ideas,  feeds  the 

the  use  of  the  word  discovery.  In  one  passage  he  seems  to  exclude 
the  possibility  of  dicoveries  from  matiiematics  as  well  as  metaphy- 
sics; and  what  is  still  more  curious,  to  do  so,  on  account  of  the  licrfect 
evidence  which  it  is  possible  for  us  to  attain  in  both  these  sciences. 

"  Lu  reflexion,  en  partant  des  idees  directcs,  peut  suivre  deux 
"  routes  differentes:  ou  elle  compare  les  qualites  des  corps,  et  alors, 
"  d'abstractions  en  abstractions,  elle  arrive  aux  noiions  les  plus  sim- 
"  pies,  celles  de  (juantites;  ou  bien  elle  se  reporte  sur  ccs  operations 
"  meme  qui  ont  servi  a  la  formation  des  idees,  et  remonte  ainsi  aux 
"  elemens  de  la  meta/ifiijsique.  Ces  deux  sciences,  \3^  geometric  et  la 
"  metaiihysique^  quoiqu'  analogues  entr'elles,  sont  done  les  deux 
"  termes  extremes  et  opposes  de  nos  connnissances.  Entr'elles  est  un 
'*  monde  immense,  l^abime  des  incertitudes  et  Ic  thdatre  des  decou- 
^  vertes." —  Disc.  Prelim,  a  I'Encyclop. 
2 


Chap.  II.]  PRELIMINARY  DISSERTATION.  49 

"  young  war-horse  to  the  sound  of  the  drum;  and  the  un- 
"  philosophical  artists  that  tame  elephants  and  dancing- 
*'  dogs,  proceed  upon  the  same  obvious  and  admitted 
*'  principle." 

This  argument,  I  suspect,  leads  a  little  too  far  for  the 
purpose  of  its  author,  inasmuch  as  it  concludes  still  more 
forcibly  (in  consequence  of  the  greater  familiarity  of  the 
subject,)  against  Physics,  strictly  so  called,  than  against 
the  Science  of  Mind.  The  Savage,  who  never  heard  of 
the  accelerating  force  of  gravity,  yet  knows  how  to  add  to 
the  momentum  of  his  missile  weapons,  by  gaining  an  emi- 
nence; though  a  stranger  to  Newton's  third  law  of  motion, 
he  applies  it  to  its  practical  use,  when  he  sets  his  canoe 
afloat,  by  pushing  with  a  pole  against  the  shore: — in  the 
use  of  his  sling,  he  illustrates,  with  equal  success,  the 
doctrine  of  centrifugal  forces,  as  he  exemplifies  (without 
any  knowledge  of  the  experiments  of  Robins)  the  princi- 
ple of  the  rifle- barrel  in  feathering  his  arrow.  The  same 
groom  who,  "  in  feeding  his  young  war- horse  to  the 
"  sound  of  the  drum,"  has  nothing  to  learn  from  Locke  or 
from  Hume  concerning  the  laws  of  association,  might 
boast,  with  far  greater  reason,  that,  without  having  looked 
into  Borelli,  he  can  train  that  animal  to  his  various  paces; 
and  that,  when  he  exercises  him  with  the  longe,  he  ex- 
hibits an  experimental  illustration  of  the  centrifugal  force, 
and  of  the  centre  of  gravity,  which  was  known  in  the 
riding-school  long  before  their  theories  were  unfolded  in 
the  Principia  of  Newton.  Even  the  operations  of  the  ani- 
mal which  is  the  subject  of  his  discipline,  seem  to  involve 
an  acquaintance  with  the  same  physical  laws,  when  we 
attend  to  the  mathematical  accuracy  with  which  he  adapts 
the  obliquity  of  his  bodv  to  the  rate  of  his  circular  speed. 

G 


50  I'JlELnilNARY  DISSERTATION.  [Chaii.  H. 

In  both  cases  (in  that  of  the  man  as  well  as  of  the  brute) 
this  practical  knowledge  is  obtruded  on  the  organs  of  ex- 
ternal sense  by  the  hand  of  nature  herself:  but  it  is  not  on 
that  account  the  less  useful  to  evolve  the  general  theorems 
which  are  thus  embodied  with  their  particular  applications; 
and  to  combine  them  in  a  systematical  and  scientific  form, 
for  our  own  instruction  and  that  of  others.  Does  it  detract 
from  the  value  of  the  theory  of  pneumatics  to  remark,  that 
the  same  effects  of  a  vacuum,  and  of  the  elasticity  and  pres- 
sure of  the  air,  which  afford  an  explanation  of  its  most  cu- 
rious phenomena,  are  recognized  in  an  instinctive  process 
coeval  with  the  first  breath  which  we  draw;  and  exem- 
plified in  the  mouth  of  every  babe  and  suckling? 

When  one  of  the  unphilosophical  artists  of  the  Circus 
gallops  his  round,  standing  or  dancing  upon  his  horse's 
back,  and  tosses  up  an  orange,  which  he  is  afterwards  to 
receive  on  the  point  of  a  sword,  he  presents  to  us  an  exem- 
plification of  some  physical  truths,  connected  with  the  most 
refined  conclusionsof  science.  To  say  nothing  of  the  centri- 
fugal power,  or  of  the  centre  of  gravit}--,  the  single  experi- 
ment of  the  orange,  affords  an  illustration  of  the  composition 
of  forces,  so  apposite  and  so  palpable,  that  it  would  have 
furnished  Copernicus  with  a  triumphant  reply  to  the  ca- 
vils of  his  adversaries  against  the  motion  of  the  earth. 

What  an  immense  stock  of  scientific  principles  lie 
buried  amid  the  details  of  manufactures  and  of  arts!  We 
may  judge  of  this  from  an  acknowledgment  of  Mr.  Boyle, 
that  he  had  learned  more  by  frequenting  the  shops  of 
tradesmen  than  from  all  the  volumes  he  had  read. 

How  many  beautiful  exemplifications  of  the  most  sub- 
lime mechanical  truths  are  every  day  exhibited  by  the  most 
illiterate  of  the  people!  Nay,  how  great  is  the  superiority. 


Chap.  II.]  PRELIMINARY  DISSERTATION.  51 

in  point  of  promptitude  and  address,  which  some  of  these 
iinphiiosophical  artists  display,  in  circumstances  where 
the  most  profound  mechanician  would  be  totally  at  a  loss 
how  to  avail  himself  of  his  knowledge!  The  philosopher 
himself,  the  first  time  he  is  at  sea,  cannot  cease  to  wonder, 
when  he  observes  the  theorems  hitherto  associated  in  his 
mind  with  mathematical  diagrams,  exemplified  by  every 
ship- boy  on  board;  nor  need  he  be  ashamed  to  acknow-f 
ledge  his  own  incompetency  to  apply  these  theorems  to 
their  practical  use,  while  he  attempts  to  handle  the  ropes, 
or  to  steer  the  vessel.  Still  less,  however,  would  he  have 
reason,  on  this  account,  to  conclude,  that,  in  studying  the 
composition  and  resolution  of  forces,  he  had  made  an  ac- 
quisition of  no  intrinsic  value. 

The  proper  inference  to  be  drawn  from  these  and  simi- 
lar considerations,  is  so  admirably  expressed  in  the 
following  passage,  that  I  shall  transcribe  it  without  any 
comment.  It  is  quoted  from  an  obscure  author  by  Sir 
Joshua  Reynolds,  and  placed  by  him  in  the  front  of  his 
academical  discourses,  as  an  apology  for  his  own  dis- 
quisitions concerning  some  of  the  principles  of  painting. 

*'  Omnia  fere  qu£e  praeceptis  continentur  ab  ingeniosis 
"  hominibus  fiunt;  sed  casu  quodam  magis  quam  scitntia. 
"  Ideoque  doctrina  et  animadversio  adhibenda  est,  ut  ea 
**  quae  interdum  sine  ratione  nobis  occurrunt,  semper  in 
"  nostra  potestate  sint;  et  quoties  res  pdstulaverit,  a  nobis 
*'  ex  prseparato  adhibeantur." 

It  is  hardly  necessary  for  me  to  remark  how  applica- 
ble this  observation  is  to  those  very  doctrines  of  the  sci- 
ence of  Mind  which  have  given  rise  to  this  discussion. 
They  who  consider  how  much  of  the  business  of  educa- 
tion resolves  into  a  skilful  management  of  attention  and 


52  PRELIMINARY  DISSERTATION.  [Chap.  II. 

of  association^  will  not  be  disposed  to  deny,  that  some- 
thing might  still  be  done,  by  awakening  the  vigilance  of 
parents  and  preceptors  to  these  important  principles  of  our 
frame  to  render  this  task  more  systematical  in  its  aim,  and 
less  doubtful  in  its  success.  Have  no  conclusions  with  res- 
pect to  them  been  yet  ascertained,  of  which  a  better  prac- 
tical use  might  be  made  to  develope,  or  to  increase  the 
mental  energies  of  man;  to  promote  his  moral  improve- 
ment;  and  to  shed  on  his  understanding  that  pure  and 
and  steady  light,  without  which  reason  itself  can  do  but 
little,  either  to  exalt  his  views,  or  to  secure  his  happiness? 
Even  the  very  curious  facts  here  appealed  to,  with  respect 
to  the  education  of  the  war-horse  and  of  the  elephant, 
only  afford  additional  proofs  of  the  universality  of  the 
proposition,  "  that  knowledge  is  power."  They  demon- 
strate, that  the  empire  of  man  over  the  brute  force  of 
the  lower  animals  is  proportioned,  not  to  his  physical 
strength,  but  to  the  knowledge  he  possesses  of  their  res- 
pective constitutions.  They  form  indeed  a  most  beauti- 
ful and  instructive  comment  on  Bacon's  maxim,  that 
*'  nature  is  to  be  subdued  only  by  obeying  her  laws;''''  and 
might  almost  be  quoted  as  apologues  for  the  moral  les- 
son they  may  convey  to  the  guardians  of  youth,  and  to 
the  rulers  of  nations. 

It  must  indeed  be  granted,  that,  in  the  best  works 
which  have  yet  appeared  on  the  science  of  mind,  the 
mere  refutation  of  scholastic  errors  occupies  a  large  and 
melancholy  space.  Accordingly,  it  has  been  mentioned, 
with  an  air  of  triumph,  as  a  fact  which,  since  the  time  of 
Reid,  "  seems  now  to  be  admitted  with  regard  to  pei'- 
"  ception,  and  some  of  the  other  primary  functions  of 
"  mind;  that  philosophy  can  be  of  no  use  to  us,  and  that 


Ghap.n.]  PRELIMINARY  DISSERTATION.  S3 

"  the  profoimdest  reasonings  lead  us  back  to  the  creed, 
"  and  to  the  ignorance  of  the  vulgar."  The  reflection  is  un- 
doubtedly just,  \{  by  philosophy  be  here  meant  the  theory 
of  perception,  which  prevailed  universally  before  the  time 
of  Reid.    But  I  must  be  allowed  to  refuse  my  assent  to 
the  statement,  if  it  is  to  be  understood  as  calling  in  ques- 
tion the  utility  of  that  philosophy  by  which  this  theory 
was  exploded,  after  having  reigned  in  the  schools  for  more 
than  two  thousand  years,  and  bewildered,  not  more  than 
a  century  ago,  the  speculations  of  Locke,  of  Clarke,  and 
of  Newton.  In  order  to  prepare  the  way  for  the  mechanical 
inquiries  of  the  moderns,  it  was  necessary  to  begin  with 
exposing  the   futility  of  the  scholastic   explanations  of 
phenomena,  by  occult  qualities^  and  Nature''s  horror  of  a 
void.    After  the  darkness  in  w^hich  every  theory  relating 
to  the  study  of  mind  has  been  so  long  involved,  by  means 
of   hypotheses   consecrated   by   time,    and    interwoven 
with  the  inmost  texture  of  language,  some  preliminary 
labour,  in  like  manner,  may  be  expected  to  be  necessa- 
rily employed  in  clearing  away  the  metaphysical  rubbish 
of  the  ancients,  and  of  the  middle  ages;  and  it  is  a  cir- 
cumstance highly  honourable  to  the  sagacity  and  zeal, 
both  of  Locke  and  of  Reid,  that  they  have  devoted  to 
this  ungrateful,  but  indispensable  task,  so  large  a  portion 
of  their  writings.   What  the  latter  of  these  philosophers 
has  said  concerning  the  doctrine  of  his  illustrious  prede- 
cessor on  the  subject  of  definitions,  may  be  applied  to  va- 
rious other  parts  of  the  Essay  on  Human  Understanding, 
as  well  as  to  many  discussions  which  occur  in  his  own 
publications;  that  "  it  is  valuable,  not  so  much  because  it 
"  enlarges  our  knowledge,  as  because  it  makes  us  sensi- 
"  ble  of  our  ignorance;  and  shews  that  a  great  part  of 


54  PRELIMINARY  DISSERTATION.  [Chap.  11. 

"  what  speculative  men  have  admired  as  profound  phllo- 
*'  sophy,  is  only  a  darkening  of  knowledge  by  words  with- 
"  out  understanding." 

Nor  must  it  be  forgotten,  that  it  is  on  this  very  hypo- 
thesis concerning  perception,  which  has  been  successfully 
exploded  by  Rcid,  that  the  scepticism  of  Hume,  concern- 
ing the  existence  both  of  matter  and  of  mind,  rests  funda- 
mentally. Has  this  scepticism  had  no  effect  in  unsettling 
the  opinions  of  mankind?  or  granting  (as  I  believe  will 
not  be  disputed)  that  the  effect  has  been  great  and  exten- 
sive, shall  we  deny  the  practical  utility  of  disentangling 
human  reason  from  such  a  labyrinth? 

After  all,  it  is  not  on  this  or  similar  articles  of  the 
science  of  Mind,  that  I  myself  am  inclined  to  lay  any  great 
stress  in  this  part  of  my  argument.  The  points  to  which  I 
wish  chiefly  to  draw  my  readers'  attention,  are  tlie  inti- 
mate connection  between  this  science  and  the  general  con- 
duct of  the  understanding;  and  its  obvious  tendency,  by 
facilitating  the  analysis  of  whatever  casual  combinations 
the  fancy  may  have  formed,  to  dissolve  the  charm  of 
those  associations,  against  which  the  most  conclusive  ar- 
guments spend  their  force  in  vain. 

I  have  always  been  convinced,  that  it  was  a  fundamen- 
tal error  of  Aristotle  (in  which  he  has  been  followed  by 
almost  every  logical  writer  since  his  time)  to  confine  his 
views  entirely  to  reasoning  or  the  discursive  faculty,  in- 
stead of  aiming  at  the  improvement  of  our  nature  in  all 
its  various  parts. — Granting,  however,  for  a  moment,  that 
this  very  limited  idea  of  the  object  of  their  study  was  to 
be  adopted,  a  more  comprehensive  survey  of  our  faculties 
and  powers  was  necessary  than  they  appear  to  have  sus- 
pected; for  it  is  in  corners  of  ourframe  which  seem,  on  a  su- 


Chap.  II.  J  PRELIMINARY  DISSERTATION.  55 

perficial  view,  to  have  the  least  connection  with  our 
speculative  opinions,  that  the  sources  of  our  most  dan- 
gerous errors  will  be  found  to  lurk.  It  is  sufficient  for  me 
to  mention  here,  the  Association  of  Ideas;  Imagination; 
Imitation;  the  use  of  Language  as  the  great  Instrument 
of  Thought;  and  the  Artificial  Habits  of  Judging  ^  imposed 
by  the  principles  and  manners  in  which  we  have  been 
educated. 

If  this  remark  be  well  founded,  it  obviously  follows, 
that,  in  order  to  prepare  the  way  for  a  just  and  compre- 
hensive system  of  Logic,  a  previous  survey  of  our  nature, 
considered  as  one  great  whole,  is  indispensably  requisite. 
To  establish  this  fundamental  principle,  and  to  exemplify 
it  in  some  of  its  practical  applications,  was  one  of  the 
main  objects  I  had  in  view,  when  I  first  entered  upon  my 
inquiries  into  the  Human  Mind;  and  I  am  not  without 
hopes,  that  if  my  original  design  shall  ever  be  completed, 
the  imperfect  sketch  I  have  presumed  to  attempt,  will  be 
regarded  by  competent  judges,  as  no  inconsiderable  step 
towards  the  accomplishment  of  this  great  undertaking  by 
some  abler  hand. 

If  my  health  and  leisure  allow  me  to  put  in  writing 
some  speculations  which  have  long  been  familiar  to  my 
own  thoughts,  I  shall  endeavour  to  place  the  defects  of 
our  common  logical  systems  in  a  still  stronger  light,  by 
considering  them  in  their  application  to  the  fundamental 
doctrines  of  Ethics;  and  more  particularly,  by  examin- 
ing  how  far,  in  researches  of  this  sort,  our  moral  feelings 
or  emotions  are  entitled  to  consideration;  cheeking,  on 
the  one  hand,  our  speculative  reasonings,  when  they  lead 
to  conclusions  at  which  our  nature  revolts;  and,  on  the 
other,  sanctioning  those  decisions  of  the  understanding, 


56  I'llKLIMINARY  DISSERTATION.  fChaP- It- 

in  favour  of  which  the  head  and  the  heart  unite  their 
suftVagcs. 

According  to  the  prevailing  maxims  of  modern  philo- 
soj)hy,  so  little  regard  is  paid  to  feeling  and  sentiment  in 
matters  of  reasonijig,  that,  instead  of  being  understood  to 
sanction  or  confirm  the  intellectual  judgments  with  which 
they  accord,  they  are  very  generally  supposed  to  cast  a 
shade  of  suspicion  on  every  conclusion  with  which  they 
blend  the  slightest  tincture  of  sensibility  or  enthusiasm. 

The  prosecution  of  this  idea  will,  if  1  do  not  much  de- 
ceive myself,  open  some  new  views  with  respect  to  the 
hogic  of  Morals;  and  I  am  induced  to  suggest  it  here,  in 
the  hopes  of  directing  the  curiosity  of  some  of  my  readers 
to  an  inquiry,  which,  I  am  persuaded,  will  lead  them  to 
conclusions  deeply  interesting  to  their  own  happiness. 

As  to  Logic  in  general,  according  to  my  idea  of  it,  it 
is  an  art  yet  in  its  infancy,  and  to  the  future  advancement 
of  which  it  is  no  more  possible  to  fix  a  limit,  than  to  the 
future  progress  of  human  knowledge.  The  aphorism  of 
Lord  Bacon  applies,  in  this  instance,  with  peculiar  force. 
"  Certo  sciant  homines,  artes  inveniendi  solidas  et  veras 
**  adolescere  et  incrementa  sumere  cum  ipsis  inventis." 
In  the  mean  time,  it  is  the  duty  of  all  who  devote  them- 
selves to  scientific  pursuits,  to  treasure  up  carefully,  as 
materials  to  be  collected  and  arranged  afterwards  by  others, 
whatever  general  rules  or  methods  may  have  occurred  to 
them  in  the  course  of  their  studies.  Even  at  present, 
numljcrless  scattered  lights  might  be  gathered  from  the 
labours  of  our  predecessors,  both  ancient  and  modern; 
nor  would  it  perhaps  be  possible  to  supply  a  desideratum 
of  greater  value  to  philosophy,  than  to  concentrate  these 
dispersed  rays,  and  to  throw  them  on  the  regions  which 

2 


Chap.  II.]  PRELIMINARY  DISSERTATION.  57 

are  yet  to  be  explored.*  From  such  a  concentration  much 
aid  might  be  expected,  both  in  directing  the  studies  of 
others,  and  in  the  conduct  of  our  own  understanding;  and 
it  is  chiefly  on  this  slow,  but  continued  accession  to  our 
stock  of  logical  principles,  arising  from  a  systematical 
accumulation,  at  proper  intervals  of  time,  of  individual 
contributions,  that  I  rest  my  hopes  of  the  farther  advance- 
ment of  that  science  in  after  ages.  To  speak,  in  the  actual 
state  of  the  world,  of  a  complete  system  of  logic  (if  by 
that  word  is  meant  any  thing  different  from  the  logic  of 
the  schools),  betrays  an  inattention  to  the  object  at  which 
it  aims,  and  to  the  progressive  career  of  the  human  mind; 
but  above  all,  it  betrays  an  overweening  estimate  of  the 
little  which  logicians  have  hitherto  done,  when  compared 
with  the  magnitude  of  the  task  which  they  have  left  to 
their  successors. 

It  was  not,  however,  with  a  view  to  the  advancement 
of  logic  alone,  that  I  was  led  to  engage  in  these  inquiries. 
My  first  and  leading  aim  was  to  take  as  comprehensive 
a  survey  as  possible  of  the  human  constitution,  in  order 
to  show  how  limited  our  common  plans  of  education  are, 
when  compared  with  the  manifold  powers  both  of  intel- 
lect and  of  enjoyment  by  which  Nature  has  distinguished 
our  species.  The  cultivation  of  reason,  with  a  view  to  the 
investigation  of  truth,  is  only  one  of  the  means,  although 
one  of  the  most  essential  means  towards  the  improvement 
and  happiness  of  the  individual;  and  it  is  merely  on  account 
of  its  high  comparative  importance  in  this  respect,  that  I  so 

*  To  those  who  may  tui-n  their  attention  to  the  Logic  of  Mathe- 
matical Science,  many  invaluable  hints  may  be  collected  from  the 
works  of  D'Alembert,  and  from  the  preliminary  discourses  prefixed 
by  some  of  his  countrymen  to  their  Muthematical  Works. 

H 


58  PRELIMINARY  DISSERTATION.  [Chap.  II. 

often  recur  to  it  in  the  prosecution  of  my  undertaking.  The 
two  last  Essays  which  I  have  printed  at  the  end  of  this  vo- 
lume, will,  I  hope,  be  useful  in  illustrating  my  general  idea. 

I  have  been  insensibly  led  into  a  much  longer  detail 
than  I  intended,  about  my  future  plans.  I  should  be  sorry 
if  any  of  my  readers  should  ascribe  this  prolixity  to  an  idle 
egotism.  Had  I  enjoyed  a  more  unbroken  leisure,  my  de- 
sign would  have  been  many  years  ago  completed,  as  far  as 
the  measure  of  my  abilities  enabled  me.  I  still  look  for- 
ward, though  with  hopes  much  less  sanguine  than  I  once 
indulged,  to  the  prosecution  of  my  task;  and  if  (as  is  more 
than  probable)  these  hopes  shall  be  disappointed,  it  will 
afford  me  some  satisfaction,  to  have  left  behind  me  this 
memorial,  slight  as  it  is,  of  what  I  have  meditated. 

I  have  only  to  repeat  once  more,  before  the  close  of  this 
Dissertation,  that  the  correction  of  one  single  prejudice 
has  often  been  attended  with  consequences  more  impor- 
tant and  extensive  than  could  be  produced  by  any  positive 
accession  to  the  stock  of  our  scientific  information.  Such 
is  the  condition  of  man,  that  a  great  part  of  a  philosopher's 
life  must  necessarily  be  spent,  not  in  enlarging  the  circle 
of  his  knowledge,  but  in  unlearning  the  errors  of  the 
crowd,  and  the  pretended  wisdom  of  the  schools;  and  that 
the  most  substantial  benefit  he  can  bestow  on  his  fellow- 
creatures,  as  well  as  the  noblest  species  of  Power  to  which 
he  can  aspire,  is  to  impart  to  others  the  lights  he  has  struck 
out  by  his  meditations,  and  to  encourage  human  reason, 
by  his  example,  to  assert  its  liberty.  To  what  did  the  dis- 
coveries made  by  Luther  amount,  but  to  a  detection  of 
the  impostures  of  the  Romish  Church,  and  of  absurdities 
sanctioned  by  the  authority  of  Aristotle?  Yet,  how  vast 
the  space  which  is  filled  by  his  name,  in  the  subsequent 


Chap,  n.]  PRELIMINARY  DISSERTATION.  59 

history  of  Europe!  and  how  proud  his  rank  among  the 
benefactors  of  mankind!  I  am  doubtful  if  Bacon  himself 
did  so  much  by  the  logical  rules  he  gave  for  guiding 
the  inquiries  of  his  followers,  as  by  the  resolution  with 
which  he  inspired  them  to  abandon  the  beaten  path  of 
their  predecessors,  and  to  make  excursions  into  regions 
untrodden  before;  or  if  any  of  his  suggestions  concerning 
the  plan  of  experimenting,  can  be  compared  in  value  to 
his  classification  and  illustration  of  the  various  prejudices 
or  idols  which  mislead  us  from  the  pure  worship  of  Truth. 
If  the  ambition  of  Aristotle  has  been  compared,  in  the 
vastness  of  its  aim,  and  the  plenitude  of  its  success,  (and 
who  can  say  that  it  has  been  compared  unjustly?)  to  that 
of  his  Royal  Pupil  who  conquered  the  world;  why  under- 
value the  eiforts  of  those  who  first  raised  the  standard  of 
revolt  against  his  universal  and  undisputed  despotism? 
Speedily  after  the  death  of  Alexander,  the  Macedonian 
empire  was  dismembered  among  his  principal  officers. 
The  empire  founded  by  the  philosopher  continued  one 
and  undivided  for  the  period  of  two  thousand  years;  and, 
even  at  this  day,  fallen  as  it  is  from  its  former  grandeur, 
a  few  faithful  and  devoted  veterans,  shut  up  in  its  remain- 
ing fortresses,  still  bid  proud  defiance,  in  their  master's 
name,  to  all  the  arrayed  strength  of  Human  Reason.  In 
consequence  of  this  slow  and  gradual  emancipation  of  the 
Mind,  the  means  by  which  the  final  result  has  been  accom- 
plished, attract  the  notice  only  of  the  reflecting  inquirer; 
resembling  in  their  silent,  but  irresistible  operation,  the 
latent  and  imperceptible  influence  of  the  roots,  which,  by 
insinuating  themselves  into  the  crevices  of  an  ancient  edi- 
fice, prepare  its  infallible  ruin,  ages  before  its  fall;  or  that 
of  the  apparently  inert  moisture,  which  is  concealed  in  the 


60  PRELIMINARY  DISSERTATION.  [Chap.  11. 

.  fissures  of  a  rock,  when  enabled,  by  the  expansive  force 
of  congelation,  to  rend  asunder  its  mass,  or  to  heave  it 
from  its  basis. 

As  it  is  seldom,  in  such  instances,  easy  to  trace  to  par- 
ticular individuals  what  has  resulted  from  their  exertions, 
with  the  same  precision  with  which,  in  physics  or  mecha- 
nics, we  refer  to  their  respective  inventors  the  steam-en- 
gine or  the  thunder-rod^  it  is  not  surprising,  that  the  atten- 
ion  of  the  multitude  should  be  so  little  attracted  to  the 
intellectual  dominion  of  superior  minds  over  the  moral 
world;  but  the  observer  must  be  blind  indeed,  who  does 
not  perceive  the  vastness  of  the  scale  on  which  specula- 
tive principles,  both  right  and  wrong,  have  operated  on 
the  present  condition  of  mankind;  or  who  does  not  now 
feel  and  acknowledge,  how  deeply  the  morals  and  the 
happiness  of  private  life,  as  well  as  the  order  of  political 
society,  are  involved  in  the  final  issue  of  the  contest 
beween   true  and  false  philosophy. 


In  selecting  the  subjects  of  the  Essays  contained  in  the 
First  Part  of  this  volume,  I  have  had  a  view  chiefly  to  the 
correction  of  some  mistaken  opinions  concerning  the  ori- 
gin of  our  Knowledge  (or,  to  use  the  more  common 
phraseology,  concerning  the  origin  of  our  Ideas)  which, 
as  they  are  naturally  suggested  by  certain  figurative 
modes  of  speaking,  sanctioned  by  the  highest  authorities, 
are  apt  to  Avarp  the  judgment  in  studying  the  most  ele- 
mentary principles  of  abstract  science.  I  have  touched 
slightly  on  the  same  question  in  one  of  the  sections  of 
my  former  work;  where  the  doctrine  maintained  with 
respect  to  it  coincides  exactly  with  that  which  it  is  now 


Chap.  11]  PRELIMINARY  DISSERTATION.  61 

my  object  to  establish  by  a  more  ample  discussion.  At 
that  time,  I  did  not  imagine  that  it  differed  so  widely 
from  the  current  maxims  of  the  learned,  as  I  have  since 
found  from  various  later  publications;  and  accordingly, 
(as  the  point  in  dispute  is  intimately  connected  with  al- 
most every  other  question  relating  to  the  human  mind) 
I  have  availed  myself  of  the  present  opportunity  to  throw 
upon  it  some  additional  light,  before  resuming  my  ana- 
lysis of  the  Intellectual  Powers.  With  this  view,  I  have 
been  led  to  canvass,  pretty  freely,  the  doctrines  not  only 
of  my  predecessors,  but  of  several  of  my  contemporaries; 
and  to  engage  in  various  arguments,  which,  however  un,- 
connected  they  may  appear  in  a  table  of  contents,  will 
be  all  found,  upon  examination,  to  bear  upon  the  same 
conclusion.  I  flatter  myself,  therefore,  that  those  who 
may  take  the  trouble  to  follow  the  train  of  thought 
which  has  led  me  from  one  Essay  to  another,  will  dis- 
cover in  this  part  of  my  book  a  greater  degree  of  unity, 
than  its  title-page  seems  at  first  to  promise. 

The  Essays  which  fill  up  the  rest  of  the  volume  have 
no  necessary  dependence  on  the  disquisitions  to  which 
they  are  subjoined;  and  may  perhaps  be  read  with  some 
interest  by  readers  who  have  little  relish  for  scholastic 
controversy.  The  choice,  however,  even  of  these,  was  not 
altogether  arbitrary;  as,  I  trust,  will  appear  evident  to 
such  as  may  honour  the  whole  series  with  an  attentive, 
perusal. 

Of  the  speculations  with  respect  to  the  origin  of  our 
ideas,  the  greater  part  were  committed  to  writing,  for  the 
first  time,  during  the  course  of  the  last  summer  and  win- 
ter; the  materials  of  some  of  them  being  supplied  by  very 
imperfect  hints,  noted  down  at  different  periods  of  my 


62  ^REUMINAUY  DrSSERTATlON.  fChap.  H. 

life.  The  business  of  composition  was  begun  at  a  time 
when  I  had  recourse  to  it  occasionally  as  a  refuge  from 
other  thoughts;  and  has  been  carried  on  under  circum- 
stances, which,  I  doubt  not,  will  incline  those  to  whom 
they  are  known,  to  judge  of  the  execution  with  some 
degree  of  indulgence. 


PHILOSOPHICAL  ESSAYS 
PART  FIB  ST. 


PHILOSOPHICAL  ESSAYS. 

PART  FIRST. 


ESSAY  FIRST. 


ON  LOCKE'S  ACCOUNT  OF  THE  SOURCES  OF  HUMAN 
KNOWLEDGE,  AND  ITS  INFLUENCE  ON  THE  DOC^ 
TRINES   OF  SOME   OF  HIS  SUCCESSORS. 


CHAPTER  FIRST. 
INTRODUCTORY  OBSERVATIONS. 

In  speculating  concerning  any  of  the  intellectual  pheno- 
mena, it  is  of  essential  importance  for  us  constantly  to  re- 
collect, that,  as  our  knowledge  of  the  material  world  is 
derived  entirely  from  our  external  senses,  so  all  our 
knowledge  of  the  human  mind  is  derived  from  conscious- 
ness. As  to  the  blind  or  the  deaf,  no  words  can  convey 
the  notions  of  particular  colours,  or  of  particular  sounds; 
so  to  a  being  who  had  never  been  conscious  of  sensation, 
memory,  imagination,  pleasure,  pain,  hope,  fear,  love, 
hatred,  no  intelligible  description  could  be  given  of  the 
import  of  these  terms.  They  all  express  simple  ideas  or 
notions,  which  are  perfectly  familiar  to  every  person  who 
is  able  to  turn  his  thoughts  inwards,  and  which  we  never 
fail  to  involve  in  obscurity  when  we  attempt  to  define 

them.* 

♦  See  Note  (A).     ' 


66  ON  LOCKE'S  ACCOUN'T  OF  THE  [Essay  I. 

The  habits  of  inattention  which  all  men  contract,  in 
their  early  years,  to  the  operations  of  their  own  minds, 
have  been  j)ointed  out,  by  various  writers,  as  the  most 
powerful  of  all  obstacles  to  the  progress  of  our  inquiries 
concerning  the  theory  of  human  nature.  These  habits, 
it  has  also  been  remarked,  are  to  be  conquered  only 
by  the  most  persevering  industry  in  accustoming  the 
thoughts  to  turn  themselves  at  pleasure  to  the  phenome- 
na of  this  internal  world;  an  effort  by  no  means  easy  to 
any  individual,  and,  to  a  large  proportion  of  mankind, 
almost  impracticable.  *'  Magni  est  ingenii"  (says  Cice- 
ro) "  revocare  mentem  a  sensibus,  et  cogitationem  a  con- 
"  suetudine  abducere."  The  observation,  as  thus  ex- 
pressed, is  perhaps  somewhat  exceptionable;  inasmuch 
as  the  power  which  Cicero  describes  has  but  little  con- 
nection with  Genius  in  the  ordinary  acceptation  of  that 
word; — but  it  cannot  be  denied,  that  it  implies  a  capacity 
of  patient  and  abstracted  meditation,  which  does  not  fall 
to  the  lot  of  many. 

To  this  power  of  directing  the  attention  steadily  and 
accurately  to  the  phenomena  of  thought,  Mr.  Locke  and 
his  followers  have  very  properly  given  the  name  of  Reflec- 
tion. It  bears  precisely  the  same  relation  to  Consciousness 
which  Observation  does  to  Perception;  the  former  sup- 
plying us  with  the  facts  which  form  the  only  solid  basis 
of  the  science  of  mind,  as  we  are  indebted  to  the  latter 
for  the  ground- work  of  the  whole  fabric  of  natural  philo- 
sophy. 


* 


*Tbe  French  language  affords  no  single  word  to  express  consci- 
ousness, but  conscience;  a  word  which  is  also  frequently  employed 
as  synonymous  with  the  moral  sense.  Thus  it  is  equally  agreeable  to 
the  usage  of  the  most  correct  writers  to  say,  I'/wmme  a  la  conscience 


Chap.  I.J  SOURCES  OF  HUMAN  KNOWLEDGE.  67 

With  respect  to  the  exercise  of  reflection,  the  following 
precept  of  an  old-fashioned  writer  is  so  judicious,  and 
the  caution  it  sug-gests  of  so  great  moment  to  us  in  the 
inquiries  on  which  we  are  about  to  enter,  that  I  shall 
make  no  apology  for  introducing  it  here,  although  not 
more  immediately  connected  with  the  subject  of  the  pre- 
sent essay,  than  with  those  of  all  the  others  contained  in 
this  volume. 

"  When  I  speak"  (says  Crousaz,  in  his  Art  of  Think- 
ing,) "  of  desire,  contentment,  trouble,  apprehension, 
"doubt,  certainty;  of  affirming,  denying,  approving, 
"  blaming; — I  pronounce  words,  the  meaning  of  which 
**  I  distinctly  understand;  and  yet  I  do  not  represent  the 
*'  things  spoken  of  under  any  image  or  corporeal  form. 
*'  While  the  intellect,  however,  is  thus  busy  about  its 
**  own  phenomena,  the  imagination  is  also  at  work  in  pre- 
"  senting  its  analogical  theories;  but  so  far  from  aiding  us, 
"  it  only  misleads  our  steps,  and  retards  our  progress. 
"  Would  you  know  what  thought  is? — It  is  precisely 
"  that  which  passes  within  you  when  you  think:  Stop  but 
**  here,  and  you  are  sufficiently  informed.  But  the  ima- 
*'  gination,  eager  to  proceed  farther,  would  gratify  our 
"  curiosity  by  comparing  it  to  fire,  to  vapour,  or  to  other 

de  sa  liberte;  and  !o  speak  of  un  homme  de  co7iscience^  in  the  English 
acceptation  of  that  phrase.  Hence  an  occasional  indistinctness  in  the 
reasonings  of  some  of  the  best  French  metaphysicians.  It  has  proba- 
bly been  with  a  view  to  its  correction,  that  so  much  use  has  been 
made  lately  of  the  circumlocutions,  le  sens  intime^  le  sentiment  inte- 
rieur;  phrases  which  appear  to  me  to  be  still  more  exceptionable 
than  the  word  for  which  they  h&ve  been  substituted. 

In  general,  the  English  language  has  a  decided  superiority  over 
the  French  in  the  precision  of  its  metaphysical  phraseology. — A  few 
exceptions  to  this  remark  might  perhaps  be  mentioned,  but  I  do  not 
recollect  any  of  much  importance. 


68  ON  LOCKE'S  ACCOUNT  OF  THE  [Essay  1.' 

"  active  and  subtile  principles  in  the  material  world.  And 
*'  to  what  can  all  this  tend,  but  to  divert  our  attention 
*'  from  what  thought  is,  and  to  fix  it  upon  what  it  is 
*'  not?" 

The  belief  which  accompanies  consciousness,  as  to 
the  present  existence  of  its  appropriate  phenomena,  has 
been  commonly  considered  as  much  less  obnoxious  to 
cavil,  than  any  of  the  other  principles  which  philosophers 
are  accustomed  to  assume  as  self-evident,  in  the  forma- 
tion of  their  metaphysical  systems.  No  doubts  on  this 
head  have  yet  been  suggested  by  any  philosopher,  how 
sceptical  soever;  even  by  those  who  have  called  in  ques- 
tion the  existence  both  of  mind  and  of  matter: — And  yet 
the  fact  is,  that  it  rests  on  no  foundation  more  solid  than 
our  belief  of  the  existence  of  external  objects;  or  our  be- 
lief, that  other  men  possess  intellectual  powers  and  facul- 
ties similar  to  those  of  which  we  are  conscious  in  our- 
selves. In  all  these  cases,  the  only  account  that  can  be 
given  of  our  belief  is,  that  it  forms  a  necessary  part  of 
Qur  constitution;  against  which  metaphysicians  may  ea- 
sily argue  so  as  to  perplex  the  judgmeni,  but  of  which 
it  is  impossible  for  us  to  divest  ourselves  for  a  moment, 
when  we  are  called  on  to  employ  our  reason,  either  in 
the  business  of  life,  or  in  the  pursuits  of  science.  While 
we  are  under  the  influence  of  our  appetites,  passions,  or 
affections,  or  even  of  a  strong  speculative  curiosity,  all 
those  difficulties  which  bewildered  us  in  the  solitude  of 
the  closet  vanish  before  the  essential  principles  of  the 
human  frame. 

According  to  the  common  doctrine  of  our  best  philoso- 
phers, it  is  by  the  evidence  of  consciousness  wc  are  assur- 
ed that  we  ourselves  exist.    The  proposition,  however, 


Chap.  I]  SOURCES  OP  HUMAN  KNOWLEDGE.  69 

when  thus  stated,  is  not  accurately  true;  for  our  own  ex- 
istence is  not  a  direct  or  immediate  object  of  conscious- 
ness, in  the  strict  and  logical  meaning  of  that  term.  We 
are  conscious  of  sensation,  thought,  desire,  volition;  but 
we  are  not  conscious  of  the  existence  of  mind  itself;  nor 
would  it  be  possible  for  us  to  arrive  at  the  knowledge  of  it 
(supposing  us  to  be  created  in  the  full  possession  of  all  the 
intellectual  capacities  that  belong  to  human  nature)  if  no 
impression  were  ever  to  be  made  on  our  external  senses. 
The  moment  that,  in  consequence  of  such  an  impression, 
a  sensation  is  excited,  we  learn  two  facts  at  once; — the  ex- 
istence of  the  sensation,  and  our  own  existence  as  sentient 
beings: — in  other  words,  the  very  first  exercise  of  my  con- 
sciousness necessarily  implies  a  belief,  not  only  of  the  pre- 
sent existence  of  what  is  felt,  but  of  the  present  existence 
of  that  which  feels  and  thinks;  or  (to  employ  plainer  lan- 
guage) the  present  existence  of  that  bfcing  which  I  denote 
by  the  words  /  and  myself.  Of  these  facts,  however,  it  is 
the  former  alone  of  which  we  can  properly  be  said  to  be 
conscious,  agreeably  to  the  rigorous  interpretation  of  the 
expression.  The  latter  is  made  known  to  us  by  a  sug- 
gestion of  the  understanding  consequent  on  the  sensation, 
but  so  intimately  connected  with  it,  that  it  is  not  surpri- 
sing that  our  belief  of  both  should  be  generally  referred 
to  the  same  origin. 

If  this  distinction  be  just,  the  celebrated  enthymeme  of 
Des  Cartes^  Cogito  ergo  sum^  does  not  deserve  all  the  ri- 
dicule bestowed  on  it  by  those  writers  who  have  repre- 
sented the  author  as  attempting  to  demonstrate  his  own 
existence  by  a  process  of  reasoning.  To  me  it  seems 
more  probable,  that  he  meant  chiefly  to  direct  the  atten- 
tion of  his  readers  to  a  circumstance  which  must  be  al- 


70  ON  LOCKE'S  ACCOUNT  OP  THE  [Bssay  L 

lowed  to  be  not  unworthy  of  notice  in  the  history  of  the 
human  mind; — the  impossibility  of  our  ever  having  learn- 
ed the  fact  of  our  own  existence,  without  some  sensation 
being  excited  in  the  mind,  to  awaken  the  faculty  of  think- 
ing.* 

As  the  belief  of  our  present  existence  necessarily  ac- 
companies every  act  of  consciousness,  so,  from  a  com- 
parison of  the  sensations  and  thoughts  of  which  we  are 
now  conscious,  with  those  of  which  we  recollect  to  have 
been  conscious  formerly,  we  are  impressed  with  an  irre- 
sistible conviction  oi out  pei'sotial  identity.  Notwithstand- 
ing the  strange  difficulties  that  have  been  raised  upon  the 
subject,  I  cannot  conceive  any  conviction  more  complete 
than  this,  nor  any  truth  more  intelligible  to  all,  whose 
understandings  have  not  been  perplexed  by  metaphysical 
speculations.  The  objections  founded  on  the  change  of 
substance  in  certain  material  objects  to  which  we  con- 
tinue to  apply  the  same  name,  are  plainly  not  applicable 
to  the  question  concerning  the  identity  of  the  same 
person,  or  of  the  same  thinking  being;  inasmuch  as  the 
words  sameness  and  identity  are  here  used  in  different 
senses.  Of  the  meaning  of  these  words  when  applied  to 
persons,  I  confess  I  am  not  able  to  give  a  logical  defini- 
tion; but  neither  can  I  define  sensation,  memory,  volition 
nor  even  existence;  and  if  any  one  should  bring  himself 
by  this  and  other  scholastic  subtilties  to  conclude,  that 
he  has  no  interest  in  making  provision  for  to-morrow, 

*  After  looking  again  into  the  Meditations  of  Dcs  Cartes,  I  am 
doubtful  if  I  have  not  carried  my  apology  for  him  a  little  farther 
than  his  own  words  will  justify.  I  am  still  of  opinion,  however,  that 
it  was  tlie  remark  which  1  have  ascribed  to  him,  that  first  led  him 
into  this  train  of  thought. 


Chap.  I.]  SOURCES  OF  HUMAN  KNOWLEDGE.  71 

hecsiuse  personaliti/  is  not  a  permanent  but  a  transient  thing. 
Lean  think  of  no  argument  to  convince  him  of  his  error. 

But  although  it  is  by  consciousness  and  memory  that  the 
sameness  of  our  being  is  ascertained  to  ourselves,  it  is 
by  no  means  correct  to  say  with  Locke,  that  consciousness 
constitutes  personal  identity; — a  doctrine  which,  as  But- 
ler justly  remarks,  "  involves,  as  an  obvious  consequence, 
"  that  a  person  has  not  existed  a  single  moment,  nor  done 
"  one  action  but  what  he  can  remember;  indeed  none  but 
"  what  he  reflects  upon."* — "  One  should  really  think 
"  it  self-evident,"  (as  the  same  author  further  remarks) 
*'  that  consciousness  of  personal  identity  presupposes, 
"  and  therefore  cannot  constitute  personal  identity,  any 
"  more  than  knowledge  in  any  other  case  constitutes 
*'  those  truths  which  are  its  own  objects." — The  previous 
existence  of  the  trutlis  is  manifestly  implied  in  the  very 
supposition  of  their  being  objects  of  knowledge. 

While,  however,  I  assent  completely  to  the  substance 
of  these  acute  and  important  strictures  upon  Locke's 
doctrine,  I  think  it  necessary  for  me  to  observe,  that  the 
language  of  Butler  himself  is  far  from  being  unexcep- 
tionable. He  speaks  of  our  consciousness  of  personal  iden- 
tity; whereas  it  must  appear  evident,  upon  a  moment's 
reflection,  even  to  those  who  acquiesce  in  the  common 
statement  which  ascribes  immediately  to  consciousness, 
our  belief  of  our  present  existence^ — that  our  belief  of 
our  personal  identity  presupposes,  over  and  above  this 
knowledge,  the  exercise  of  memory^  and  the  idea  of  time. 
The  importance  of  attending  carefully  to  the  distinc- 

*  See  the  dissertation  on  personal  identity,  subjoined  to  Butler's 
Analogy. 


72  ON  LOCKE'S  ACCOUNT  OF  THE  [Essay  I. 

tion  between  the  phenomena  which  are  the  immediate  ob- 
jects of  consciousness,  and  the  concomitant  notions  and 
truths  which  are  suggested  to  our  thoughts  by  these  phe- 
nomena, will  appear  from  the  considerations  to  be  stated 
n  the  next  chapter;  in  following  which,  however,  I  must 
request  my  readers  to  remember,  that  the  distinction  be- 
comes important  merely  from  the  palpable  refutation  it 
affords  of  the  prevailing  theory  concerning  the  origin  of 
our  knowledge;  and  not  from  any  difference  between  the 
two  classes  of  truths,  in  point  of  evidence. 


Chap.  II. J  SOURCES  OF  HUlNfAN  KNOWLEDGE,  73 


CHAPTER  SECOND. 

INCONSISTENCY    OF  OUR    CONCLUSIONS  IN  THE  FOREGOING  CHAPTER 

WITH  Locke's  account  of  the  origin  of  our  knowledge. 

It  was  already  observed,  that  it  is  from  consciousness, 
or  rather  from  reflection,  that  we  derive  all  our  notions  of 
the  faculties  and  operations  of  the  mind;  and  that,  in  ana- 
lysing these,  we  must  lay  our  account  with  arriving, 
sooner  or  later,  at  certain  simple  notions  or  ideas,  which 
we  have  no  means  of  conveying  to  others,  but  by  teach- 
ing those  to  whom  our  reasonings  are  addressed,  how  to 
direct  their  attention  with  accuracy  to^  what  passes  with- 
in them.  These  mental  phenomena  form  the  direct  an^ 
appropriate  subjects  of  consciousness;  and,  indeed,  the 
only  direct  and  appropriate  subjects  of  consciousness,  in 
the  strict  acceptation  of  that  word. 

It  must  not,  however,  be  concluded  from  this,  that 
the  proper  subjects  of  consciousness  (when  the  phrase 
is  thus  understood)  comprehend  all  the  simple  notions 
or  ideas  about  which  the  science  of  mind  is  conversant; 
far  less  (as  some  philosophers  have  imagined)  that  they 
comprehend  all  the  elements  into  which  human  know- 
ledge may,  in  the  last  result,  be  analysed.  Not  to  men- 
tion such  notions  as  those  of  extension  and  figure,  (both 
of  which  are  inseparable  concomitants  of  some  of  our 
external  perceptions,  and  which  certainly  bear  no  resem- 
blance to  any  thing  of  which  we  are  conscious  within 

ourselves  J  there  is  a  great  varietv  of  others  so  connected 

K 


74  ox  LOCKE'S  ACCOUNT  OF  THE  ^Essty  I. 

with  our  different  intellectual  faculties,  that  the  exercise 
of  the  faculty  may  be  justly  regarded  as  a  condition  in- 
dispensably necessary  to  account  for  the  first  origin  of 
the  notion.  Thus,  by  a  mind  destitute  of  the  faculty  of 
memorif^  neither  the  ideas  of  time^  nor  of  motion^  nor  of 
personal  identity ^  could  possibly  have  been  formed;  ideas 
which  are  confessedly  among  the  most  familiar  of  all 
those  we  possess,  and  which  cannot  be  traced  immedi- 
ately to  consciousness y  by  any  effort  of  logical  subtilty. 
In  like  manner,  without  the  faculty  of  abstraction,  we 
never  could  have  formed  the  idea  of  number;  nor  of  lines, 
surfaces^  and  solids^  as  they  are  considered  by  the  mathe- 
matician; nor  would  it  have  been  possible  for  us  to  com- 
prehend the  meaning  of  such  words  as  classes  or  assort- 
ments, or  indeed  of  any  one  of  the  grammatical  parts  of 
speech,  but  proper  names.  Without  the  power  of  reason 
or  understanding,  it  is  no  less  evident,  that  no  comment 
could  have  helped  us  to  unriddle  the  import  of  the  words, 
truth,  certainty,  probability,  theorem,  premises,  conclusion; 
nor  of  any  one  of  those  which  express  the  various  sorts 
of  relation  which  fall  under  our  knowledge.  In  such 
cases,  all  that  can  be  said  is,  that  the  exercise  of  a  particu- 
lar faculty  furnishes  the  occasion  on  which  certain  simple 
notions  are,  by  the  laws  of  our  constitution,  presented  to 
our  thoughts;  nor  does  it  seem  possible  for  us  to  trace  the 
origin  of  a  particular  notion  any  farther,  than  to  ascertain 
what  the  nature  of  the  occasion  was,  which,  in  the  first 
instance,  introduced  it  to  our  acquaintance. 

The  conclusions  we  thus  form  concerning  the  origin 
of  our  knowledge,  constitute  what  may  be  properly  called 
the  First  Chapter  of  the  natural  history  of  the  human 
mind.    They  constitute,  at  the  same  time,  the  only  solid 


Cihap.  11. j  SOURCES  OP  HUxVIAN  KNOWLEDGE.  75 

basis  of  a  rational  logic;  of  that  part  of  logic,  more  espe- 
cially, which  relates  to  the  theory  of  evidence.  In  the  order 
of  investigation,  however,  they  necessarily  presuppose 
such  an  analysis  of  the  faculties  of  the  mind  as  I  have 
attempted  in  another  work; — a  consideration  of  which  I 
do  not  know  that  any  logical  writer  has  been  hitherto 
aware;  and  which  I  must  request  my  readers  carefully 
to  attend  to,  before  they  pass  a  judgment  on  the  plan  I 
have  followed  in  the  arrangement  of  my  philosophical 
speculations. 

If  the  foregoing  remarks  be  well-founded,  they  are  fatal 
to  a  fundamental  principle  of  Locke's  philosophy,  which 
has  been  assumed  by  most  of  his  successors  as  a  demon- 
strated truth;  and  which,  under  a  form  somewhat  dis- 
guised, has  served  to  Hume  as  the  basis  of  all  his  scep- 
tical theories.  It  appears  to  me,  that  the  doctrines  of  both 
these  eminent  authors,  with  respect  to  the  origin  of  our 
ideas,  resolve  into  the  supposition,  that  consciousness  is 
exclusively  the  source  of  all  our  knowledge.  Their  lan- 
guage, indeed,  particularly  that  of  Locke,  seems  to  imply 
the  contrary;  but  that  this  was  really  their  opinion,  may, 
with  certainty,  be  inferred  from  their  own  comments. 
My  reasons  for  saying  so,  I  shall  endeavour  to  explain 
as  clearly  and  concisely  as  I  can. 

"  Let  us  suppose"  (says  Locke)  "  the  mind  to  be,  as 
"  we  say,  white  paper,  void  of  all  characters,  without  any 
"  ideas:  How  comes  it  to  be  furnished?  Whence  comes 
"  it  by  that  vast  store  which  the  busy  and  boundless  fan- 
"  cy  of  man  has  painted  on  it,  with  an  almost  endless  va- 
"  riety?  Whence  has  it  all  the  materials  of  reason  and 
"  knowledge?  To  this  I  answer  in  a  word,  from  experi- 
*'  ence:  In  that  alPour  knowledge  is  founded,  and  from 


76  ON  LOCKE'S  ACCOUNT  OF  THE  [Essay  I. 

"  that  it  ultimately  derives  itself.  Our  observation,  em- 
^' ployed,  either  about  external  sensible  objects,  or  about 
"  the  internal  operations  of  our  minds,  perceived  and  re- 
*'.  fleeted  on  by  ourselves,  is  that  which  supplies  our  un- 
"  derstanding  with  all  the  materials  for  thinking.  These 
"  two  are  the  fountains  of  knowledge  from  whence  all  the 
"  ideas  we  have,  or  can  naturally  have,  do  spring." 

"  First,  our  senses,  conversant  about  particular  sensi- 
"  ble  objects,  do  convey  into  the  mind  several  distinct 
"  perceptions  of  things,  according  to  those  various  ways 
**  wherein  those  objects  do  affect  them:  And  thus  wc 
*'  come  by  those  ideas  we  have  of  yellow^  ivhite^  heaty 
"  coldy  softy  hardy  bitter j  sweety  and  all  those  which  we 
"call  sensible  qualities;  which,  when  I  say  the  senses 
"  convey  into  the  mind,  I  mean,  they,  from  external  ob- 
"  jects  convey  into  the  mind  what  produces  there  those 
*'  perceptions.  This  great  source  of  most  of  the  ideas  we 
"  have,  depending  wholly  upon  our  senses,  and  derived 
"  by  them  to  the  understanding,  I  call  sensation. 

"  Secondly,  the  other  fountain  from  which  experience 
"  furnisheth  the  understanding  with  ideas,  is  the  percep- 
''  tion*  of  the  operations  of  our  own  minds  within  usy  as  it 
"  is  employed  about  the  ideas  it  has  got;  which  opera- 
"  tions,  when  the  soul  comes  to  reflect  on  and  consider, 
*'  do  furnish  the  understanding  with  another  set  of  ideas, 
"  which  could  jiot  be  had  from  things  without;  and  such 
'■^  dCTQ  perceptiony  thinking  y  doubting  y  believingy'reasoningy 
"  wiilingy  and  all  the  different  actings  of  our  own  minds; 
"  which  we,  being  conscious  of,  and  observing  in  our- 
*'  selves,  do  from  these  receive  into  our  understandings 

*  VoY  Jicrcefilion  read  consciousness. 


Chap.  II.]  SOURCES  OF  HUMAN  KNOWLEDGE.  77 

as  distinct  ideas,  as  we  do  from  bodies  affecting,  our 
senses.  This  source  of  ideas  every  man  has  wholly  in 
himself:  And  though  it  be  not  sense,  as  having  nothing 
to  do  with  external  objects,  yet  it  is  very  like  it,  and 
might  properly  enough  be  called  internal  sense.  But  as 
I  call  the  other  sensation,  so  I  call  this  reflection; 
the  ideas  it  affords  being  such  only  as  the  mind  gets  by 

reflecting  on  its  own  operations  within  itself. These 

two,  I  say,  viz.  external  material  things,  as  the  objects 
of  sensation,  and  the  operations  of  our  own  minds  with- 
in, as  the  objects  of  reflection,  are  to  me  the  only  ori- 
ginals from  whence  all  our  ideas  take  their  begin- 
nings."* 

"  When  the  understanding  is  once  stored  with  these 
simple  ideas,  it  has  the  power  to  repeat,  compare,  and 
unite  them,  even  to  an  almost  infinite  variety,  and  so 
can  make  at  pleasure  new  complex  ideas.- — But  it  is  not 
in  the  power  of  the  most  exalted  wit,  or  enlarged  un- 
derstanding, by  any  quickness  or  variety  of  thoughts, 
to  invent  or  frame  one  new  simple  idea  in  the  mind, 
not  taken  in  by  the  ways  before-mentioned:  Nor  can 
any  force  of  the  understanding  destroy  those  that  are 
there.  The  dominion  of  man,  in  this  little  world  of  his 
own  understanding,  being  much  the  same,  as  it  is  in 
the  great  world  of  visible  things;  wherein  his  power, 
however  managed  by  art  and  skill,  reaches  no  farther 
than  to  compound  or  divide  the  materials  that  are  made 
to  his  hand,  but  can  do  nothing  towards  the  making 
the  least  particle  of  new  matter,  or  destroying  one  atom 
of  what  is  already  in  being,  "f 

*  Locke's  Essay,  Book  ii.  Chap.  i.  §  2,  3,  &c. 
t  Locke's  Essay,  Book  2.  Chap  ii.  §  2. 


78  ON  LOCKE'S  ACCOUNT  OF  TJIB  [Essay  I. 

Thus  far  there  seems  to  be  little  reprehensible  in 
Locke's  statement,  as  it  might  be  fairly  interpreted  (not- 
withstanding some  unguarded  expressions)  as  implying 
nothing  more  than  this,  that  the  first  occasions  on  which 
the  mind  is  led  to  exercise  its  various  faculties,  and  to 
acquire  the  simple  notions  which  form  the  elements  of 
all  its  knowledge,  are  furnished  either  by  impressions 
made  on  our  external  senses,  or  by  the  phenomena  of  sen- 
sation and  thought  of  which  we  are  conscious.  In  this 
sense  of  the  words,  I  have,  in  a  former  work,  not  only 
expressed  my  assent  to  Mr.  Locke's  doctrine,  but  have 
admitted  as  correct,  the  generalization  of  it  adopted  by 
most  of  his  present  followers; — "  that  the  first  occasions 
"  on  which  our  various  faculties  are  exercised,  and  the 
"  elements  of  all  our  knowledge  acquired,  may  be  traced 
*'  ultimately  to  our  intercourse  with  sensible  objects." 
This  generalization,  indeed,  is  an  obvious  and  necessary 
consequence  of  the  proposition  as  stated  by  Locke;  the 
mind  being  unquestionably,  in  the  first  instance,  awaken- 
ed to  the  exercise  of  consciousness  and  reflection  by  im- 
pressions from  without.* 

The  comments,  however,  which  Locke  has  introduced 
on  this  cardinal  principle  of  his  system,  in  different  parts 
of  his  Essay,  prove  beyond  a  doubt  that  he  intended  it  to 
convey  a  great  deal  more  than  is  implied  in  the  interpre- 
tation of  it  which  has  just  been  given;  and  that,  accord- 
ing to  the  meaning  he  annexed  to  his  words,  sensation 
and  reflection  are  not  merely  affirmed  to  furnish  the  occa- 

*  See  Philosophy  of  the  Hupian  Mind,  Chap.  i.  Sect.  4.  which  I 
fnust  beg  leave  to  recommend  to  the  careful  perusal  of  such  of  my 
readers  as  are  at  all  awar«  of  the  importance  of  this  discussion. 


Chap.  Il.J  SOURCES  OF  HUMAN  KNOWLEDGE.  79 

sions  which  suggest  to  the  understanding  the  various  sim- 
ple or  elementary  modifications  of  thought  to  which  he 
gives  the  name  of  simple  Ideas;  but  to  furnish  the  mind 
directly  and  immediately  with  these  ideas,  in  the  obvious 
and  literal  sense  of  the  expression; — insomuch,  that  there 
is  not  a  simple  idea  in  the  mind  which  is  not  either  the 
appropriate  subject  of  consciousness,  (such  as  the  ideas 
which  the  mind  forms  of  its  own  operations,) — or  a  copi/  of 
some  quality  perceived  by  our  external  senses.  It  appears 
farther,  that  Locke  conceived  these  copies,  or  images,  to 
be  the  immediate  objects  of  thought,  all  our  information 
about  the  material  world  being  obtained  by  their  interven- 
tion: And  it  was  for  this  reason,  I  before  asserted,  that  his 
fundamental  principle  resolves  into  the  supposition,  that 
consciousness  is  exclusively  the  source  of  all  our  know- 
ledge.^ 

That  I  may  not  be  suspected  of  doing  Locke  any  in- 
justice on  this  occasion,  I  must  quote  a  few  passages  in 
his  own  words. 

*'  The  next  thing  to  be  considered  is,  how  bodies  pro- 
*'  duce  ideas  in  us,  and  that  is  manifestly  bt/  impulse,  the 
"  only  way  we  can  conceive  bodies  to  operate  in." 

"  If,  then,  external  objects  be  not  united  to  our  minds, 

*  A  remark,  the  same  in  substance  with  this,  is  made  by  Dr.  Reid 
in  the  conclusion  of  his  Inquiry.  "  When  it  is  asserted,  that  all  our 
"  notions  are  either  ideas  of  sensation,  or  ideas  of  reflection,  the 
"  plain  English  of  this  is,  that  mankind  neither  do,  nor  can  think  of 
"  any  thing,  but  of  the  operations  of  their  own  minds." — Inquiry, 
cS'c.  fi.  376,  (2d  Editioji). 

In  some  places,  Locke  speaks  of  the  ideas  of  material  things  as 
being  in  the  brain;  but  his  general  mode  of  expression  supposes 
ihem  to  be  m  (he  mind;  and  consequently  the  immediate  objects  of 
consciousness. 


80  ON  LOCKK'S  ACCOUNT  OF  THE  [Essay  I 

"  when  they  produce  ideas  in  it;  and  yet  we  perceive  these 
"  original  qualities  in  such  of  them  as  singly  fall  under 
"  our  seniles,  'tis  evident,  that  some  motion  must  be  thence 
"  continued  by  our  nerves  or  animal  spirits,  or  by  some 
*'  parts  of  our  bodies  to  the  brain,  or  the  seat  of  sensation, 
"  there  to  produce  in  our  minds  the  particular  ideas  we 
"  have  of  them.  And  since  the  extension,  figure,  number, 
"  and  motion  of  bodies  of  an  observable  bigness,  may  be 
**  perceived- at  a  distance  by  the  sight,  'tis  evident,  some 
"  singly  imperceptible  bodies  must  come  from  them  to  the' 
"  eyes,  and  thereby  convey  to  the  brain  some  motion 
"  which  produces  these  ideas  which  we  have  of  them  in 
"us."* 

A  few  sentences  after,  Mr.  Locke,  having  previously 
stated  the  distinction  between  the  primary  and  the  secon- 
dary qualities  of  matter,  proceeds  thus:  "  From  whence 
*'  I  think  it  easy  to  draw  this  observation,  that  the  ideas 
"  of  primary  qualities  of  bodies  are  resemblances  oi  them, 
*'  and  their  patterns  do  really  exist  in  the  bodies  them- 
*'  selves;  but  the  ideas  produced  in  us  by  these  secondary 
*'  qualities  have  no  resemblance  of  them  at  all."! 

What  notion  Mr.  Locke  annexed  to  the  word  resem- 
blance^ when  applied  to  our  ideas  of  primary  qualities, 
may  be  best  learned  by  the  account  he  gives  of  the  dif- 
ference between  them  and  our  ideas  of  secondary  quali- 
ties, in  the  paragraph  immediately  following.  "  Flame  is 
"  denominated  hot  and  light; |  snow,  white  and  cold;  and 
"  manna,  white  and  sweet;  from  the  ideas  they  produce 

*  Locke's  Essay,  Book  ii.  Chap.  viii.  §  1 1.  and  12. 

t  §  15 The  instances  mentioned  by  Locke  of  primary  qualities 

are,  solidity,  extension,  figure,  motion,  or  rest,  and  number. 
t  For  lip^ht  read  l'imino\i-s 


Chap.  II.]  SOURCES  OF  HUMAN  KNOWLEDGE.  81 

"  in  us:  which  qualities  are  commonly  thought  to  be  the 
"  same  in  those  bodies  that  those  ideas  are  in  us,  the  one 
"  the  perfect  resemblance  of  the  other ^  as  they  are  in  a  mir- 
"  ror;  and  it  would  by  most  men  be  judged  very  extra- 
"  vagant,  if  one  should  say  otherwise." 

"  I  pretend  not"  (says  the  same  author  in  a  subsequent 
chapter)  "  to  teach,  but  to  inquire;  and  therefore,  cannot 
"  but  confess  here  again,  that  external  and  internal  sen- 
"  sation  are  the  only  passages  that  I  can  find  of  know- 
"  ledge  to  the  understanding.  These  alone,  as  far  as  I 
"  can  discover,  are  the  windows  by  which  light  islet  into 
"  this  dark  room.  For  methinks  the  understanding  is  not 
•'  much  unlike  a  closet,  wholly  shut  from  light,  with  only 
"  some  little  openings  left,  to  let  in  external  visible  re- 
"  semblances,  or  ideas  of  things  without;  would  the  pic- 
"  tures  coming  into  a  dark  room  but  stay  there,  and  lie 
'*  so  orderly  as  to  be  found  upon  occasion,  it  would  very 
"  much  resemble  the  understanding  of  a  man,  in  refer- 
**  ence  to  all  objects  of  sight,  and  the  ideas  of  them."* 

I  have  been  induced  to  multiply  these  quotations,  as 
some  writers  have  alleged,  that  an  undue  advantage  has 
been  taken  of  the  unguarded  use  which  Locke  has  made 
in  them  of  the  word  resemblance;  which,  it  has  been  as- 
serted, he  could  not  possibly  mean  to  be  understood  in 
its  literal  sense. f  On  this  point  I  must  leave  my  readers 
to  judge  from  his  own  language;  remarking  only,  that  if 
this  language  be  considered  as  at  all  metaphorical  or  figu- 
rative, the  most  important  inferences,  drawn  both  by 
himself  and  his  successors,  from  his  celebrated  theory 

*  Locke,  Book  2.  Chap.  xi.  §  17. 

t  See  Priestley's  Examination  of  Reid,  &c.  p.  28.  et  seq. 

I. 


82  ox  LOCKE'S  ACCOUNT  OF  THE  [Essay  I. 

concerning  the  origin  of  our  ideas,  amount  to  nothing 
better  tlian  a  play  upon  words. 

For  my  own  part,  I  can  see  no  good  reason  for  suppo- 
sing that  Locke  did  not  believe  that  our  ideas  of  primary 
qualities  are  really  resemblances  or  copies  of  these  quali- 
ties, when  w-e  know  for  certain  that,  till  our  own  times, 
this  has  been  the  universal  doctrine  of  the  schools,  from 
Aristotle  downwards.  Even  Leibnitz  himself,  while  he 
rejected  the  supposition  of  these  ideas  coming  into  the 
mind  from  without,  expresses  no  doubt  of  their  resem- 
blance to  the  archetypes  which  they  enable  us  to  think  of. 
The  soul  he  considered  as  a  living  mirror  of  the  whole 
universe;  possessing  within  itself  confused  or  imperfect 
ideas  of  all  the  modifications  of  things  external,  whether 
present,  past,  or  to  come:  that  is  to  say,  he  retained  that 
part  of  the  scholastic  doctrine  which  is  the  most  palpably 
absurd  and  unintelligible;  the  supposition,  that  we  can 
think  of  nothing,  unless  either  the  original  or  the  copy  be 
actually  in  the  mindj  and  the  immediate  subject  of  consci- 
ousness. The  truth  is,  that  all  these  philosophers  have  been 
misled  by  a  vain  anxiety  to  explain  the  incomprehensible 
causes  of  the  phenomena  of  which  we  are  conscious, 
in  the  simple  acts  of  thinking,  perceiving,  and  knowing; 
and  they  seem  all  to  have  imagined  that  they  had  advan- 
ced a  certain  length  in  solving  these  problems,  when  they 
conjectured,  that  in  every  act  of  thought  there  exists 
some  image  or  idea  in  the  mind,  distinct  from  the  mind 
itself;  by  the  intermediation  of  which  its  intercourse  is 
carried  on  with  things  remote  or  absent.  The  chief  dif- 
ference among  their  systems  has  turned  on  this,  that 
whereas  many  have  supposed  the  mind  to  have  been  ori- 
ginally provided  with  a  certain  portion  of  its  destined  fur- 


qhap.  II.]  SOURCES  OF  HUMAN  KNOWLEDGE.  83 

niture,  independently  of  an}'  intercourse  with  the  material 
world;  the  prevailing  opinion,  since  Locke's  time  has  been, 
that  all  our  simple  ideas,  excepting  those  which  the  power  - 
of  reflection  collects  from  the  phenomena  of  thought,  are 
images  or  representations  of  certain  external  archetypes 
with  which  our  different  organs  of  sense  are  conversant; 
and  that,  out  of  these  materials,  thus  treasured  up  in  the 
repository  of  the  understanding,  all  the  possible  objects  of 
human  knowledge  are  manufactured.  "  What  inconsis- 
"  tency  !"  (might  Voltaire  well  exclaim) — "  We  know 
'*  not  how  the  earth  produces  a  blade  of  grass;  or  how  the 
"  bones  grow  in  the  womb  of  her  who  is  with  child;  and  yet 
"  we  would  persuade  ourselves  that  we  understand  the 
"  nature  and  generation  of  our  ideas."* 

It  is  however  a  matter  of  comparatively  little  conse- 
quence to  ascertain,  what  were  the  notions  which  Locke 
himself  annexed  to  his  words,  if  it  shall  appear  clearly, 
that  the  interpretation  which  I  have  put  upon  them  coin- 
cides exactly  with  the  meaning  annexed  to  them  by  the 
most  distinguished  of  his  successors.  How  far  this  is  the 
case,  my  readers  will  be  enabled  to  judge  by  the  remarks 
which  I  am  to  state  in  the  next  chapter. f 

*  Selon  Leibnitz,  Tame  est  una  concentration,  un  miroir  vivant  d6 
tout  I'univers,  qui  a  en  soi  toutes  les  idees  confuses  de  toutes  les 
modifications  de  ce  monde  presentes,  passees,  et  futures,  &c.  &c. 

Chose  etrange,  nous  ne  savons  pas  comment  la  terre  produit  un 
brin  d'herbe,  comment  une  femme  fait  un  enfant,  et  on  croit  savoir, 
comment  nous  faisons  des  idees. — (See  the  chapter  in  Voltaire's  ac- 
count of  Newton's  Discoveries,  entitled  De  I'Ame  et  dcs  Ideee.) 

tNote(B). 


M         '  ox  LOCKE'S  ACCOUNT  OF  Tll£  [Essay  I. 


CHAPTER  THIRD. 

INFLUENCE  OF  LOCKE's  ACCOUNT  OF  THE  ORIGINOF  OUR  KNOWLEDGE 
ON  THE  SPECULATIONS  OF  VARIOUS  EMINENT  WRITERS  SINCE  HIS 
TIME,  MORE  PARTICULARLY  ON  THOSE  OF  BERKELEY  AND  OF  HUME, 

W  E  are  percipient  of  nothing"  (says  Bishop  Berkeley) 

*  but  of  our  own  perceptions  and  ideas." — *'  It  is  evident 
'  to  any  one  who  takes  a  survey  of  the  objects  of  human 
'  knowledge,  that  they  are  either  ideas  actually  imprinted 
'  on  the  senses,*  or  else  such  as  are  perceived  by  attend- 
'  ing  to  the  passions  and  operations  of  the  mind,t  or 
'  lastly,  ideas  formed  by  help  of  memory  and  imagina- 
'  tion,  either  compounding,  dividing,  or  barely  represent- 
'  ing  those  originally  perceived  in  the  aforesaid  ways.  "J — 

*  Light  and  colours,"  (he  elsewhere  observes)  "  heat  and 
'  cold,  extension  and  figure;  in  a  word,  the  things  we  see 
'  and  feel,  what  are  they,  but  so  many  sensations,  notions, 
'  ideas,  or  impressions  on  the  senses;  and  is  it  possible 
'  to  separate,  even  in  thought,  any  of  these  from  percep- 
'  tion?  For  my  own  part,  I  might  as  easily  divide  a  thing 
'from  itself. "II 

No  form  of  words  could  show  more  plainly,  that,  ac- 
cording to  Berkeley's  construction  of  Locke's  language, 
his  account  of  the  origin  of  our  ideas  was  conceived  to 
involve,  as  an  obvious  corollary,  "  that  all  the  immediate 

*  Ideas  of  Sensation.  t  Ideas  of  Reflection. 

I  Principles  of  Human  Knowledge,  Sect.  1. 
I)  Principles  of  Human  Knowledge,  Sect.  5. 


Chap.  III.]  SOURCES  OF  HUMAN  KNOWLEDGE.  85 

"  objects  of  human  knowledge  exist  in  the  mind  itself, 
"  and  fall  under  the  direct  cognizance  of  consciousness, 
"  as  much  as  our  sensations  of  heat  and  cold,  or  of  pleasure 
"  and  pain." 

Mr.  Hume*s  great  principle  with  respect  to  the  origin 
of  our  ideas,  which  (as  I  before  hinted)  is  only  that  of 
Locke  under  a  new  form,  asserts  the  same  doctrine,  with 
greater  conciseness,  but  in  a  manner  still  less  liable  to 
misinterpretation. 

"  All  our  ideas  are  nothing  but  copies  of  our  impres- 
"  sions;  or,  in  other  words,  it  is  impossible  for  us  to  think 
"  of  any  thing  which  we  have  not  antecedently  felt^^ 
"  either  by  our  external  or  our  internal  senses,  "f  Mr. 
Hume  tells  us  elsewhere,  that  "  nothing  can  be  pre- 
"  sent  to  the  mind  but  an  image  or  perception.  The  senses 
"  are  only  the  inlets  through  which  these  images  are  con- 
"  veyed,  without  being  able  to  produce  any  immediate 
"  intercourse  between  the  mind  and  the  object. "J 

That  both  of  these  very  acute  writers,  too,  understood, 
in  its  literal  sense,  the  word  resemblance^  as  employed  by 
Locke,  to  express  the  conformity  between  our  ideas  of 
primary  qualities  and  their  ^7//)po*<?Q?  archetypes,  is  demon- 
strated by  the  stress  which  they  have  laid  on  this  very 
word,  in  their  celebrated  argument  against  the  existence 
of  the  material  world.  This  argument  (in  which  Hume 
entirely  acquiesces)  is  thus  stated  by  Berkeley: 

"  As  for  our  senses,  by  them  we  have  the  knowledge 

*  The  word  feelings  vvhetKer  used  here  literally  or  figuratively, 
can,  it  is  evident,  be  applied  only  to  what  is  the  immediate  subject 
of  consciousness. 

t  Of  the  Idea  of  Necessary  Connexion,  Part  I. 

I  Essay  on  the  Academical  or  Sceptical  Philosophy. 


86  ON  LOCKE'S  ACCOUNT  OP  THE  [Essay  I. 

**  only  of  our  sensations,  ideas,  or  those  things  that  arc 
"  immediately  perceived  by  sense,  call  them  what  you 
"  will;  but  they  do  not  inform  us,  that  things  exist  with- 
"  out  a  mind,  or  unperceived; — like  to  those  which  are 
^^ perceived.''''^  On  the  contrary,  "  as  there  can  be  no  no- 
"  tion  or  thought  but  in  a  thinking  being,  so  there  can  be 
**  no  sensation  but  in  a  sentient  being;  it  is  the  act  or  feel- 
*'  ing  of  a  sentient  being;  its  very  essence  consists  in  be- 
"  ing  felt.  Nothing  can  resemble  a  sensation,  but  a  simi- 
"  lar  sensation  in  the  same,  or  in  some  otlier  mind.  To 
"  think  that  any  quality  in  a  thing  inanimate  can  resemble 
*'  a  sensation  is  absurd,  and  a  contradiction  in  terms.'' 

It  was  already  observed,  how  inconsistent  this  account 
of  the  origin  of  our  ideas,  as  given  by  Locke,  Berkeley, 
and  Hume,  is,  with  some  conclusions  to  which  we  were 
led,  in  a  former  part  of  this  discussion; — our  conclusions, 
for  example,  with  respect  to  the  origin  of  our  notions  con- 
cerning our  own  existence,  and  our  personal  identity. 
Neither  of  these  notions  are  derived  immediately  from 
consciousness;  nor  yet  are  they  copies  of  any  thing  of 
which  the  human  mind  could  ever  have  been  conscious; 
and  accordingly  Mr.  Hume,  true  to  his  principles,  rejects 
the  belief,  not  only  of  the  existence  of  the  material  world, 
but  of  the  human  mind  itself,  and  of  every  thing  else  but 
impressions  and  ideas.  The  force  of  his  argument  on  this 
subject,  as  well  as  of  that  alleged  by  Berkeley  to  disprove 
the  existence  of  matter^  (both  of  which  I  consider  as  de- 
monstratively deduced  from  Locke's  Theory,)  I  propose 
to  examine  afterwards  in  a  separate  Essay.  At  present, 
I  only  wish  to  infer  from  what  has  been  stated,  that,  accor- 

*  Principles  of  Human  Knowledge,  Sect.  18, 


Chap.  Ill]  SOURCES  OF  HUMAN  KNOWLEDGE.  87 

ding  to  the  most  probable  interpretation  of  Locke's  own 
meaning,  and  according  to  the  unquestionable  interpreta- 
tion given  to  his  words  by  Berkeley  and  Hume,  his  ac- 
count of  the  origin  of  our  ideas  amounts  to  this,  that  we 
have  no  knowledge  of  any  thing  which  we  do  not  either 
learn  from  consciousness,  at  the  present  moment,  or 
which  is  not  treasured  up  in  our  minds,  as  a  copy  of  what 
we  were  conscious  of  on  some  former  occasion. 

The  constant  reference  which  is  made,  in  these  times, 
by  philosophers  of  every  description,  to  sensation  and  re- 
jiection,  as  the  sources  of  all  our  knowledge;  and  the  va- 
riety of  acceptations  in  which  this  language  may  be  under- 
stood, render  it  a  matter  of  essential  importance,  in  the 
examination  of  any  particular  system,  that  it  should  be 
distinctly  ascertained,  not  only  in  what  precise  sense  the  au- 
thor has  adopted  this  very  indefinite  and  ambiguous  prin- 
ciple, but  whether  he  has  adhered  uniformly  to  the  same 
interpretation  of  it,  in  the  course  of  his  reasonings.  In 
one  sense  of  the  proposition,  (that,  I  mean,  in  which  it 
stands  opposed  to  the  innate  ideas  of  Des  Cartes)  I  have 
already  said,  that  it  appears  to  myself  to  express  a  truth 
of  high  importance  in  the  science  of  mind;  and  it  has 
probably  been  in  this  obvious  and  unsuspicious  accepta- 
tion, that  it  has  been  so  readily  and  so  generally  assented 
to  by  modern  philosophers.  The  great  misfortune  has 
been,  that  most  of  these,  after  having  adopted  the  propo- 
sition in  its  most  unexceptionable  form,  have,  in  the  sub- 
sequent study  of  the  applications  made  of  it  by  Locke,  un- 
consciously imbibed,  as  an  essential  part  of  it,  a  scholas- 
tic prejudice  with  which  it  happened  to  be  blended  in  his 
imagination,  and  which,  since  his  time,  has  contributed 


88  ox  LOCKE'S  ACCOUNT  OF  THE  fEssay  I. 

more  than  any  other  error,  to  mislead  the  inquiries  of  his 
successors. 

In  order  to  ilhisirate  a  little  further  this  very  abstract 
subject,  I  shall  add  to  the  quotations  akeady  produced 
two  short  extracts  from  Dr.  Hutcheson;  an  author  by  no 
means  blind  to  Locke's  defects,  but  who  evidently  ac- 
quiesced implicitly  in  his  account  of  the  origin  of  our 
ideas,  according  to  the  most  exceptionable  interpretation 
of  which  it  admits. 

*'  All  the  ideas,  or  the  materials  of  our  reasoning  and 
"judging,  are  received  by  some  immediate  powers  of  per- 
''  ception,  internal  or  external,  which  we  may  call  senses. 
"  Reasoning  or  intellect  seems  to  raise  no  new  species  of 
"  ideas,  but  to  discover  or  discern  the  relations  of  those 
"  received." — Of  the  full  import  of  this  proposition  in  the 
writer's  own  mind,  he  has  put  it  in  our  power  to  judge,  by 
a  passage  in  another  of  his  publications,  where  he  has  re- 
marked, with  singular  acuteness,  that  "  extension,  figure, 
"  motion,  and  rest,  seem  to  be  more  properly  ideas  ac- 
*'  companying  the  sensations  of  sight  and  touch,  than  the 
"  sensations  of  either  of  those  senses."  The  exception 
made  by  Hutcheson  with  respect  to  the  particular  ideas 
here  enumerated,  affords  a  satisfactory  comment  on  the 
meaning  which  he  annexed  to  Locke's  principle,  in  its 
general  applications.  From  the  cautious  and  doubtful 
manner  in  which  it  is  stated,  it  is  more  than  probable, 
that  he  regarded  this  exception  as  almost,  if  not  altogether 
solitary. 

The  peculiarity  which  Hutcheson  had  the  merit  of 
first  remarking,  with  respect  to  our  ideas  of  extension, 
figure,  and  motion,  might,  one  should  have  thought, 
have  led  him  to  conjecture,  that  Locke's  principle,  when 


Chap.  III.]  SOURCES  OP  HUMAN  KNOWLEDGE.  89 

applied  to  some  of  the  other  objects  of  our  knowledge, 
would  perhaps  require  an  analogous  latitude  of  construc- 
tion. But  no  hint  of  such  a  suspicion  occurs,  as  far  as  I 
recollect,  in  any  part  of  his  writings;  nor  does  it  appear 
that  he  was  at  all  aware  of  the  importance  of  the  criti- 
cism on  which  he  had  stumbled-  The  fact  is,  as  I  shall 
have  occasion  to  show  in  another  essay,  he  had  anticipa- 
ted the  very  instances  which  were  afterwards  appealed  to 
by  Reid,  as  furnishing  an  experimentum  crucis,  in  sup- 
port of  his  own  reasonings  against  the  ideal  theory. 

The  clause,  however,  in  these  exracts  which  bears  most 
directly  on  our  present  subject,  is  Dr.  Hutcheson's  as- 
sertion, (in  exact  conformity  to  Locke's  doctrine)  "  that 
"  all  the  ideas  or  materials  of  our  reasoning  are  received 
"  by  certain  senses,  internal  or  external;  and  that  reason- 
"  ing  or  intellect  raises  no  new  species  of  ideas,  but  only 
"  discerns  the  relations  of  those  received." 

To  this  assertion  various  conclusions,  which  we  have 
been  led  to  in  a  former  part  of  this  chapter,  present  un- 
surmountable  objections; — those  conclusions,  more  espe- 
cially, which  regard  the  simple  ideas  implied  or  involved 
m  certain  intuitive  judgments  of  the  mind.  Thus,  it  is 
surely  an  intuitive  truth,  that  the  sensations  of  which  I 
am  now  conscious,  and  all  those  of  which  I  retain  any 
remembrance,  belong  to  one  and  the  same  being,  w'hich  I 
call  myself.  Here  is  an  intuitive  judgment,  involving  the 
simple  idea  oi personal  identity.  In  like  manner,  the  changes 
of  which  I  am  conscious  in  the  state  of  my  own  mind, 
and  those  which  I  perceive  in  the  external  universe,  im- 
press me  with  a  conviction,  that  some  cause  must  have 
operated  to  produce  them.  Here  is  an  intuitive  judgment, 

involving  the  simple  idea  of  causation. — To  -these  and 

M 


yO  ON  LOCKETS  ACCOUNT  OF  THE  [Essay  I. 

Other  instances  of  the  same  kind,  may  be  added  our  ideas 
oitime;  o{  number;  oi  truth;  oi  certainty;  oi probability;— 
all  of  which,  while  they  arc  manifestly  peculiar  to  a  ra- 
tional mind,  necessarily  arise  in  the  human  understand- 
ing, when  employed  in  the  exercise  of  its  different  facul- 
ties. To  say,  therefore,  with  Cudworth,  and  some  of  the 
Greek  philosophers,  that  Reason,  or  the  Understanding, 
is  a  source  of  new  ideas,  is  not  so  exceptionable  a  mode 
of  speaking,  as  it  may  appear  to  be,  at  first  sight,  to  those 
whose  reading  has  not  extended  beyond  Locke's  Essay. 
According  to  the  system  there  taught,  sense  furnishes  our 
ideas,  and  reason  perceives  their  agreements  or  disagree- 
ments. But  the  truth  is,  that  what  Locke  calls  agreements^ 
and  disagreements^  are,  in  many  instances,  simple  ideas, 
of  which  no  analysis  can  be  given;  and  of  which  the  origin 
must  therefore  be  referred  to  Reason,  according  to 
Locke's  own  doctrine.* 

These  observations  seem  to  go  far  to  justify  the  re- 
mark long  ago  made  by  the  learned  and  ingenious  Mr. 
Harris,  that,  "  though  sensible  objects  may  be  the  des- 
*'  tined  medium  to  awaken  the  dormant  energies  of  the  un- 
"  derstanding,  yet  are  the  energies  themselves  no  more 
'*  contained  in  sense,  than  the  explosion  of  a  cannon  in  the 
"  spark  that  gave  it  fire."t 

The  illustration  which  Cudworth  had  given,  almost  a 
century  before,  in  his  simple  and  unadorned  language,  of 
the  same  important  truth,  while  it  is  correctly  and  pro- 
foundly philosophical,  exhibits  a  view,  so  happily  ima- 
gined, of  the  characteristical  endowments  or  capacities  of 

*  The  same  observation  is  made  by  Dr.  Price  in  his  Review  of  the 
Princifial  Questions  and  Difficulties  in  Morals,  p.  49,  2d  edit, 
t  Hermes,  Book  iii.  chiap.  iv. 


i 


Chap.  Ill]  SOURCES  OF  HUMAN  KNOWLEDGE.  91 

the  human  intellect,  considered  in  contrast  with  the  sub- 
ordinate ministry  of  the  senses,  as  to  rival  in  its  effect  the 
sublime  impressions  of  poetical  description.  "  The  mind 
"perceives,  by  occasion  of  outward  objects,  as  much 
"  more  than  is  represented  to  it  by  sense,  as  a  learned 
'*  man  does  in  the  best  written  book,  than  an  illiterate 
"  person  or  brute.  To  the  eyes  of  both  the  same  cha- 
"  racters  will  appear;  but  the  learned  man,  in  those  cha- 
"  racters,  will  see  heaven,  earth,  sun,  and  stars;  read 
"  profound  theorems  of  philosophy  or  geometry;  learn  a 
"  great  deal  of  new  knowledge  from  them,  and  admire 
"  the  wisdom  of  the  composer;  while  to  the  other  nothing 
"  appears  but  black  strokes  drawn  on  white  paper."* 

In  the  works  of  Leibnitz  various  passages  occur,  ex- 
tremely similar  in  their  spirit  to  those  which  have  just 
been  quoted.  One  of  these  I  select,  in  preference  to  the 
rest,  because  it  shows  how  early  and  how  clearly  he 
perceived  that  very  vulnerable  point  of  Locke's  philoso- 
phy, against  which  the  foregoing  reasonings  have  been 
directed. 

*'  In  Locke's  Essay,  there  are  some  particulars  not  un- 
"  successfully  expounded;  but,  on  the  whole,  he  has  wan- 
*'  dered  widely  from  his  object;  nor  has  he  formed  a  just 
*'  notion  of  the  nature  of  truth  and  of  the  human  mind. — 
"  He  seems,  too,  not  to  have  been  sufficiently  aware,  that 
"  the  ideas  of  existence,  of  personal  identity,  of  truth,  be- 
'*  sides  many  others,  may  be  said  (in  one  sense)  to  be 
"  innate  in  the  mind;  inasmuch  as  they  are  necessarily 
"  unfolded  by  the  exercise  of  its  faculties.  In  other  words, 
"'  when  we  affirm  that  there  is  nothing  in  the  i7itellect  which 

*  Treatise  of  Immutable  Morality,  B.  iv.  o.  ii. 


92  ON  LOCKE'S  ACCOUNT  OF  THE  tEssay  I. 

"  was  not  previously  in  the  senses,  we  must  be  always  im- 
"  derstood  to  except  the  intellectual  powers  themselves, 
"  and  the  simple  ideas  which  are  necessarily  implied  in 
"  our  intellectual  operations."^ 

In  quoting  these  strictures  upon  Locke,  I  would  not  be 
understood  to  approve  of  the  use  which  Leibnitz  has  here 
made  of  the  word  innate;  as  I  think  it  is  liable,  in  some  de- 
gree, to  the  same  objections  which  apply  to  the  innate 
ideas  of  Des  Cartes. 

In  both  authors,  this  form  of  expression  seems  to  im- 
ply, not  only  that  ideas  have  an  existence  distinct  from 
the  faculty  of  thinking,  but  that  some  ideas,  at  least,  form 
part  of  the  original  furniture  of  the  mind;  presenting  to 
it  treasures  of  knowledge,  which  it  has  only  to  examine 
by  abstracted  meditation,  in  order  to  arrive  at  the  most 
sublime  truths.  The  same  remark  may  be  extended  to 
certain  doctrines,  which  Mr.  Harris  has  connected  with 
a  passage  already  quoted  from  his  Hermes;  and  also  to 
the  speculations  of  Dr.  Price  concerning  the  origin  of  our 
ideas,  in  his  Review  of  the  Principal  Q_uestions  aiid  Dijffi- 
eulties  in  Morals.  Of  the  limited  functions  of  sense,  these 
two  very  candid  and  profound  inquirers  were  fully  aware; 
but,  like  the  other  writers,  they  have  blended,  with  their 

*  As,  in  the  above  paragraph,  I  have  departed  a  little  from  Leib- 
nitz's language,  in  order  to  render  his  meaning  somewhat  more  ob- 
vious to  my  readers,  I  think  it  proper  to  subjoin  the  words  of  the 
original. 

"  In  Lockio  sunt  quaedam  particularia  non  male  exposita,  sed  in 
"  summalonge  aberravit  a  janua,  nee  naturam  mentis  veritalisque  in- 
"  tellexit.  Idem  non  satis  animadvertit  ideas  entis,  substantiae,  unius 
"  et  ejusdem,  veri,  boni,  aliasque  multas  raenti  nostrae  idee  innataa 
<<  esse,  quia  ipsa  innata  est  sibi,  et  in  se  ipsa  hasc  omnia  deprehendit. 
«  Nempe,  nihil  est  in  intcllectu,  quod  non  fuerit  in  scnsu,  nisi  ipse 
"  intellectus." — Tom.  V.  p.  35  5,  (Edit.  Dutens.) 


Chap.  in.  j  SOURCES  OF  HUMAN  KNOWLEDGE.  93 

Statement  of  this  important  fact,  h)^pothetical  expressions 
and  notions,  calculated  to  impose  on  an  unreflecting  reader, 
by  a  specious  explanation  of  a  mystery,  placed  beyond 
the  reach  of  the  human  faculties.*  The  supposition  in 
which  all  these  diflferent  philosophers  seem  to  have  agreed, 
of  the  existence  of  latent  ideas  in  the  mind,  previous 
to  the  exercise  of  the  senses,  (a  supposition  bordering 
nearly  on  the  old  Platonic  scheme  of  the  soul's  reminis- 
cence) cannot  be  guarded  against  with  too  great  caution; 
but,  as  to  the  arguments  in  the  Essay  of  Human  Under- 
standing, which  have  exposed  the  phrase  innate  ideas  to 
the  ridicule  of  Locke's  followers,  I  must  own,  that  they 
have  very  little  weight  with  me,  when  I  recollect  that 
Locke  himself,  no  less  than  Des  Cartes,  gave  his  express 
sanction  tolflie  Ideal  Theory.  If  that  theory  be  rejected, 
and  the  word  idea  be  understood  as  exactly  synonymous 
with  thought  or  notion,  the  phrase  innate  ideas  becomes 
much  less  exceptionable;  implying  nothing  more  (though 
perhaps  not  in  the  plainest  language)  than  the  following 
propositions,  which  I  have  already  endeavoured  to  prove: 
"  That  there  are  many  of  our  most  familiar  notions  (alto- 
"  gether  unsusceptible  of  analysis)  which  relate  to  things 
"  bearing  no  resemblance  either  to  any  of  the  sensible 
"  qualities  of  matter,  or  to  any  mental  operation  which  is 
*'  the  direct  object  of  consciousness;  which  notions,  there- 

*  What  I  mean,  in  this  instance,  by  a  mixture  of  fact  and  of  hypo- 
thesis, will  be  still  more  clearly  illustrated  by  two  quotations  from 
Mr.  Harris's  notes;  which  have  the  merit  of  stating  fairly  and  ex- 
plicitly the  theories  of  their  respective  authors,  without  any  attempt 
to  keep  their  absurdity  out  of  view  (according  to  the  practice  of 
their  modern  disciples)  by  a  form  of  words,  in  which  they  are  only 
obscurely  hinted  to  the  fancy.  For  these  quotations,  see  Note  (C). 


94  ON  LOCKE'S  ACCOUNT  OF  THE  [Essay  I. 

**  fore,  (although  the  senses  may  furnish  ih^Jirst  occa- 
"  sions  on  which  they  occur  to  the  understanding)  can 
"  neither  be  referred  to  sensation  nor  to  reflection,  as  their 
'''■fountains  or  sources^  in  the  acceptation  in  which  these 
"  words  are  employed  by  Locke. "*^ 

The  period  at  which  these  thoughts  first  arise  in  the 
mind  is  a  matter  of  little  consequence,  provided  it  can  be 
shown  to  be  a  law  of  our  constitution  that  they  do  arise, 
whenever  the  proper  occasions  are  presented.  The  same 
thing  may  be  said  with  respect  to  what  Locke  calls  m- 
nate  practical  principles;  and  also  with  respect  to  what 
other  writers  have  called  innate  affections  of  human  na- 
ture. The  existence  of  both  of  these  some  have  aflirmed, 
and  others  denied,  without  any  suspicion  that  the  contro- 
versy between  them  turned  on  little  more  than  the  mean- 
ing of  a  word. 

*  D'Alembert's  opinion  on  this  question,  although  not  uniformly 
maintained  through  all  his  philosophical  speculations,  appears  to 
have  coincided  nearly  with  mine,  when  he  wrote  the  following  sen- 
tence. 

"  Les  idees  innees  sont  une  chimere  que  I'experience  reprouve; 
"  mais  la  maniere  dont  nous  acquerons  des  sensations  et  des  idees 
"  reflechies,  quoique  prouvees  par  la  meme  experience,  n'est  pas 
'■'  moins  incomprehensible," — (^Elcm.  de  Phil,  article  Metafihysique^ 

From  various  other  passages  of  D'Alembert's  writings,  it  might 
be  easily  shown,  that  by  the  manner  of  acquiring  sensatiotis,  he  here 
means,  the  manner  in  which  we  acquire  our  knowledge  oj'  the  /irimart/ 
qualities  0/ matter;  and  that  the  inco7n/irehcnsidility  he  alludes  to,  re- 
fers to  the  difficulty  of  conceiving  how  sensations,  which  are  the 
proper  subjects  of  conscio7isncss,  should  suggest  the  knowledge  of 
ejStcrnal  things,  to  which  they  bear  no  resemblance. 


Chap.  IV.]  SOURCES  OF  HUMAN  KNOWLEDGE.  95 


CHAPTER  FOURTH. 

THE  SAME  SUBJECT  CONTINUED.^ 

Mr.  LOCKE'S  quibbles,  founded  ou  the  word  in- 
nate, were  early  remarked  by  Lord  Shaftesbury.  "  Innate 
"  is  a  word  he  poorly  plays  upon;  the  right  word,  though 
"  less  used,  is  connatural.  For  what  has  birth,  or  progress 
*'  of  the  foetus  out  of  the  womb,  to  do  in  this  case?  The 

*  If  any  of  my  readers  should  think,  that,  in  this  section,  I  make 
too  wide,  and  too  abrupt  a  transidon  from  the  question  concerning 
the  origin  of  our  knowledge,  to  that  which  relates  to  the  moral  con- 
stitution of  human  nature,  I  must  beg  leave  to  remind  them  that, 
in  doing  so,  I  am  only  following  Mr.  Locke's  arrangement  in  his 
elat)orate  argument  against  innate  ideas.  The  indefinite  use  which 
he  there  makes  of  the  word  idea^  is  the  chief  source  of  the  confusion 
which  runs  through  that  discussion.  It  is  justly  observed  by  Mr. 
Hume,  that  "  he  employs  it  in  a  very  loose  sense,  as  standing  for 
"  any  of  our  perceptions,  our  sensations  and  passions,  as  well  as 
"  thoughts." — '*  Now,  in  this  sense"  (continues  Mr.  Hume)  "  I 
"  should  desire  to  know  what  can  be  meant  by  asserting,  that  self- 
"  love,  or  resentment  of  injuries,  or  the  passion  of  love  between  the 
"  sexes,  is  not  innate?"  The  following  passage  which  forms  a  part 
of  the  same  note,  bears  a  close  resemblance  in  its  spirit  to  that  quo- 
ted in  the  text  from  Lord  Shaftesbury. 

"It  must  be  confessed,  that  the  terms  employed  by  those  who 
"  denied  innate  ideasy  were  not  chosen  with  such  caution,  nor  so  ex- 
"  actly  defined,  as  to  prevent  all  mistakes  about  their  doctrine.  For 
"  what  is  meant  by  iiinate?  If  innate  be  equivalent  to  natural,  then 
"  all  the  perceptions  and  ideas  of  the  mind  must  be  allowed  to  be  innate 
"  or  natural,  in  whatever  sense  we  take  the  latter  word,  whether  in 
"  opposition  to  uncommon,  artificial,  or  miraculous.  If  by  innate  be 
»♦  meant  contemporary  to  our  birth,  the  dispute  seems  to  be  frivo- 
"  lous;  nor  is  it  worth  while  to  inquire  at  what  time  thinking  begins, 
«  whether  before  or  after  our  birth."— Hume's  Essavs,  Vol.  II. 
.(Note  A). 


96  ON  LOCKE'S  ACCOUN  r  Ol'  lUfc  [Essay  I 

"  question  is  not  about  the  titne  the  ideas  entered,  or  the 
**  moment  that  one  body  came  out  of  the  other;  but  whe- 
"  ther  the  constitution  of  man  be  such,  that  being  adult 
•'  or  grown  up,  at  such  or  such  a  time,  sooner  or  later, 
"  (no  matter  when)  certain  ideas  will  not  infallibh^  in- 
"  evitably,  necessarily  spring  up  in  him."* 

It  has  often  struck  me  as  a  very  remarkable  circum- 
stance, after  what  Locke  has  written  with  so  much  zeal 
against  innate  principles,  both  speculative  and  practical^ 
that  his  own  opinion  upon  this  subject,  as  distinctly  sta- 
ted by  himself  in  other  parts  of  his  works,  does  not  seem 
to  have  been,  at  bottom,  so  very  diftbrent  from  Lord 
Shaftesbury's,  as  either  of  these  eminent  writers  imagined. 
All  that  has  been  commonly  regarded  as  most  pernicious 
in  the  first  book  of  his  essay,  is  completely  disavowed 
and  done  away  by  the  following  very  explicit  declaration: 

"  He  that  hath  the  idea  of  an  intelligent,  but  frail  and 
"  weak  being,  made  by  and  depending  on  another,  who 
"  is  omnipotent,  perfectly  wise  and  good,  will  as  certainly 
"  know,  that  man  is  to  honour,  fear,  and  obey  God,  as 
"  that  the  sun  shines  when  he  sees  it.  For  if  he  hath  but 
••'  the  idea  of  two  such  beings  in  his  mind,  and  will  turn 
"  his  thoughts  that  way  and  consider  them,  he  will  as 
"  certainly  find,  that  the  inferior,  finite,  and  dependent,  is 
'*  under  an  obligation  to  obey  the  supreme  and  infinite, 
"  as  he  is  certain  to  find  that  three,  four,  and  seven  are 
"  less  ihciujifteen,  if  he  will  consider  and  compute  those 

*  I  have  substituted,  in  this  quotation,  the  phrase  certain  ideas, 
instead  of  Shaftesbury's  example, — the  ideas  of  order,  administra- 
tion, and  a  God;  with  the  view  of  separating  his  general  observation 
from  the  particular  application  which  he  wished  to  make  of  it,  in 
the  tract  from  which  this  quotation  is  borrowed. — (See  Letters  to  a 
Student  at  th-e  University,  Letter  8.) 

9 


i:hai>.  IV.]-  SOURCES  OF  HUMAN  KNOWLEDGE.  97 

"  numbers;  nor  can  he  be  surer  in  a  clear  morning  that 
"  the  sun  is  risen,  if  he  will  but  open  his  eyes,  and  turn 
'*  them  that  way.  But  yet  these  truths  being  never  so  cer- 
*'  tain,  never  so  clear,  he  may  be  ignorant  of  either,  or  all 
"  of  them,  who  will  never  take  the  pains  to  employ  his 
"  faculties  as  he  should  to  inform  himself  about  them."* 

It  would  not  be  easy  to  find  a  better  illustration  than 
this  of  the  truth  of  Locke's  observation,  that  most  of  the 
controversies  among  philosophers  are  merely  verbal.  The 
advantage,  in  point  of  unequivocal  expression,  is  surely, 
in  the  present  instance,  not  on  his  side;  but  notwithstand- 
ing the  apparent  scope  of  his  argument,  and  still  more,  of 
the  absurd  fables  which  he  has  quoted  in  its  support,  the 
foregoing  passage  is  sufficient  to  demonstrate,  that  he  did 
not  himself  interpret  (as  many  of  his  adversaries,  and  I 
am  sorry  to  add,  some  of  his  admirers,  have  done,)  his 
reasonings  against  innate  ideas,  as  leading  to  any  conclu- 
sion inconsistent  with  the  certainty  of  human  knowledge, 
or  with  the  reality  and  immutability  of  moral  distinc- 
tions. 

I  have  enlarged  on  this  collateral  topic  at  greater  length 
than  I  would  otherwise  have  done,  in  consequence  chiefly 
of  the  application  which  has  been  made,  since  Locke's 
time,  of  the  principles  which  I  have  been  controverting 
in  the  preceding  chapters,  to  the  establishment  of  a  doc- 
trine subversive  of  all  our  reasonings  concerning  the  mo- 
ral administration  of  the  universe.  Dr.  Hutcheson,  one  of 
the  most  zealous,  and  most  able  advocates  for  morality, 
seems  to  have  paved  the  way  for  the  scepticism  of  some 
of  his  successors,  by  the  unguarded  facility  with  which, 

■•Locke's  Essay,  B.  iv.  c.  xiii.  §  o 

N 


98  ON  LOCKK'S  ACCOUN  r  OB*  TUB  [Essay  1 

notwithstanding  his  hostility  to  Locke's  conclusions  con- 
cerning innate  practical  principles^  he  adopted  his  opi- 
nions, and  the  peculiarities  of  his  phraseology,  with  re- 
spect to  the  origin  of  our  ideas  in  general.  I  already  ob- 
served, that,  according  to  both  these  writers,  "it  is  the 
"  province  of  sense  to  introduce  ideas  into  the  mind;  and 
"  oi  reason,  to  compare  them  together,  and  to  trace  their 
"relations;" — a  very  arbitrary  and  unfounded  assump- 
tion, undoubtedly,  as  I  trust  has  been  sufficiently  proved  in 
a  former  part  of  this  argument;  but  from  which  it  follow- 
ed as  a  necessary  consequence,  that,  if  the  words  right 
and  wrofig  express  simple  ideas,  the  origin  of  these  ideas 
must  be  referred,  not  to  reason,  but  to  some  appropriate 
power  o? perception.  To  this  power  Hutcheson,  after  the 
example  of  Shaftesbury,  gave  the  name  of  the  moral  sense; 
a  phrase  which  has  now  grown  into  such  familiar  use, 
that  it  is  occasionally  employed  by  many  who  never  think 
of  connecting  it  with  any  particular  philosophical  theory. 
Hutcheson  himself  was  evidently  apprehensive  of  the 
consequences  which  his  language  might  be  supposed  to 
involve;  and  he  has  endeavoured  to  guard  against  them, 
though  with  very  little  success,  in  the  following  caution: 
"  Let  none  imagine,  that  calling  the  ideas  of  virtue  and  vice 
"  perceptions  of  sense,  upon  apprehending  the  actions 
"  and  affections  of  another,  does  diminish  their  reality, 
"  more  than  the  like  assertions  concerning  all  pleasure 
"  and  pain,  happiness  or  misery.  Our  reason  often  cor- 
"  rects  the  report  of  our  senses  about  the  natural  tenden- 
"  cy  of  the  external  action,  and  corrects  such  rash  conclu- 
"  sions  about  the  affections  of  the  agent.  But  whether  our 
"  moral  sense  be  subject  to  such  a  disorder  as  to  have 
"  different  perceptions  from  the  same  apprehended  affec- 


Chap.  IV.]  SOURCES  OF  HUMAN  KNOWLEDGE.  ,9^ 

"  tions  in  any  agent,  at  different  times,  as  the  eye  may 
"  have  of  the  colours  of  an  unaltered  object,  it  is  not  easy 
"  to  determine:  perhaps  it  will  be  hard  to  find  any  in- 
"  stances  of  such  a  change.  What  reason  could  correct, 
*'  if  it  fell  into  such  a  disorder,  I  know  not;  except  sug- 
"  gesting  to  its  remembrance  its  former  approbations,  and 
"  representing  the  general  sense  of  mankind.  But  this 
"  does  not  prove  ideas  of  virtue  and  vice  to  be  previous 
"  to  a  sense,  more  than  a  like  correction  of  the  ideas  of 
"  colour  in  a  person  under  the  jaundice,  proves  that  co- 
"  lours  are  perceived  by  reason,  previously  to  sense." 

Mr.  Hume  was  not  to  be  imposed  upon  by  such  an 
evasion;  and  he  has  accordingly,  with  his  usual  acuteness, 
pushed  this  scheme  of  morals  (which  he  evidently  adopt- 
ed from  Hutcheson  and  Shaftesbury)  to  its  ultimate  and 
its  legitimate  conclusion.  The  words  right  and  wrong, 
(he  asserted)  if  they  express  a  distinction  at  all  analogous 
to  that  between  an  agreeable  and  a  disagreeable  colour ^ 
can  signify  nothing  in  the  actions  to  which  they  are  ap- 
plied, but  only  certain  effects  in  the  mind  of  the  spec- 
tator. As  it  is  improper,  therefore,  (according  to  the 
doctrines  of  Locke's  philosophy)  to  say  of  an  object  of 
taste  that  it  is  sweet,  or  of  heat  that  it  is  in  the  fire,  so  it  is 
equally  improper  to  speak  of  morality  as  a  thing  indepen- 
dent and  unchangeable.  "  Were  I  not"  (says  he)  "afraid 
"  of  appearing  too  philosophical,  I  should  remind  my  rea- 
*'  ders  of  that  famous  doctrine,  supposed  to  be  fully 
*'  proved  in  modern  times,  '  that  taste  and  colours,  and 
"  all  other  sensible  qualities,  lie,  not  in  the  bodies,  but 
"  merely  in  the  senses.'  The  case  is  the  same  with  beauty 
*' and  deformity,  virtue  and  vice.'''"^    In  consequence  of 

*  Hume's  Essays,  Vol.  I.  Note  (F). 


100  ON  LOCKK'S  ACCOUNT  OF  THE  [Essay  I 

this  view  of  the  subject,  he  has  been  led  to  represent  mo- 
rality, as  the  object,  not  of  reason,  but  of  taste;  the  dis- 
tinct offices  of  which  he  thus  describes:  "  The  former 
**  conveys  the  knowledge  of  truth  and  falsehood:  the  latter 
"  gives  the  sentiment  of  beauty  and  deformity,  vice  and 
"  virtue.  The  one  discovers  objects,  as  they  really  stand 
*'  in  nature,  without  addition  or  diminution:  the  other  has 
"  a  productive  quality,  and,  gilding  or  staining  all  natu- 
*'  ral  objects  with  the  colours  borrowed  from  internal 
"  sentiment,  raises,  in  a  manner,  a  new  creation."* 

Without  abandoning  the  hypothesis  of  a  moral  serise, 
Hutcheson  might,  I  think,  have  made  a  plausible  defence 
at  least,  against  such  inferences  as  these,  by  availing  him- 
self of  the  very  ingenious  and  original  remark  which  I 
already  quotedf  from  his  own  works,  with  respect  to  ex- 
tension, figure,  a?id  motion.  Unfortunately,  he  borrowed 
almost  all  his  illustrations  from  the  secondary  qualities  of 
matter;  whereas,  had  he  compared  the  manner  in  which 
we  acquire  our  notions  of  right  and  wrong,  to  our  per- 
ception of  such  qualities  as  extension  and  figure,  his  lan- 
guage, if  not  more  philosophical  than  it  is,  would  have 
been  quite  inapplicable  to  such  purposes,  as  it  has  been 
since  made  subservient  to,  by  his  sceptical  followers. 

Extension  was  certainly  a  quality  peculiarly  fitted  for 
obviating  the  cavils  of  his  adversaries;  the  notion  of  it 
(although  none  can  doubt  that  it  was  originall}'  suggested 
hy  sense,)  involving  in  its  very  nature  an  irresistible  belief 
that  its  object  possesses  an  existence,  not  only  independent 
of  our  perceptions,  but  necessary  and  eternal,  like  the  truth 
of  a  mathematical  theorem. 

*  Hume's  Essays,  Vol.  II.  Appendix,  concerning  Moral  Sentiment. 
t  See  p.  88. 


Chap;  IV. 3  SOURCES  OF  HUMAN  KNOWLEDGE.  101 

The  solid  answer,  however,  to  the  sceptical  conse- 
quences deduced  from  the  theory  of  a  moral  sense^  is,  to 
deny  the  hypothesis  which  it  assumes  with  respect  to  the 
distinct  provinces  of  sense  and  of  reason.  That  the  origin 
of  our  notions  of  right  and  wroTig  is  to  be  referred  to  the 
latter  part  of  our  constitution,  and  not  to  the  former,  I 
shall  endeavour  to  show  in  another  work.  At  present,  I 
shall  only  observe,  that  how  offensive  soever  this  language 
may  be  to  those  whose  ears  have  been  exclusively  fami- 
liarized to  the  logical  phraseology  of  Locke,  it  is  perfectly 
agreeable  to  the  common  apprehensions  of  mankind; 
which  have,  in  all  ages,  led  them  to  consider  it,  not  only  as 
ofie  of  the  functions  of  reason,  but  as  its  primary/  and 
most  important  function,  to  guide  our  choice,  in  the  con- 
duct of  life,  between  right  and  wrong,  good  and  evil. — 
The  decisions  of  the  understanding,  it  must  be  owned, 
with  respect  to  moral  truth,  differ  from  those  which  re- 
late to  a  mathematical  theorem,  or  to  the  result  of  a  che- 
mical experiment,  inasmuch  as  they  are  always  accompa- 
nied with  some  feeling  or  emotion  of  the  heart;  but  on  an 
accurate  analysis  of  this  compounded  sentiment,*  it  will 
be  found,  that  it  is  the  intellectual  judgment  which  is  the 
ground- work  of  the  feeling,  and  not  the  feeling  of  the 
judgment. 

Nor  is  the  language  which  I  have  adopted,  in  prefer- 
ence to  that  of  Locke,  with  respect  to  the  origin  of  our 
moral  notions,  sanctioned  merely  b}"^  popular  authority. 
It  coincides  exactly  with  the  mode  of  speaking  employed 
by  the  soundest  philosophers  of  antiquity.  In  Plato's 
Thejetetus,  Socrates  observes,  "  that  it  cannot  be  any  of 
''  the  powers  of  sense  that  compares  the  perceptions  of 

*  See  Note  (D> 


102  ON  LOCKE'S  ACCOUNT  OF  THE  [Essay.  I 

"  all  the  senses,  and  apprehends  the  general  affections  of 
"  things;"  asserting,  in  opposition  to  Protagoras,  that 
**  this  power  is  reason^  or  the  governing  principle  of  the 
"  mind." — To  illustrate  what  he  means  by  the  general 
affections  of  things^  he  mentions,  as  examples,  identity^ 
number^  similitude^  dissimilitude^  equality^  inequality^  xaAov 
Koti  Aiff-^^ov; — an  enumeration  which  is  of  itself  sufficient 
to  show,  how  very  nearly  his  view  of  this  subject  ap- 
proached to  the  conclusions  which  I  have  been  endea- 
vouring to  establish  concerning  the  origin  of  our  know- 
ledge.* The  sentence  which  immediately  follows  could 
not  have  been  more  pointedly  expressed,  if  the  author 
had  been  combating  the  doctrine  of  a  moral  sense,  as 
explained  by  Dr.  Hutcheson:  ''  It  seems  to  me,  that  for 
"  acquiring  these  notions,  there  is  not  appointed  any  dis- 
"  tinct  or  appropriate  organ;  but  that  the  mind  derives 
"  them  from  the  same  powers  by  which  it  is  enabled  to 
"  contemplate  and  to  investigate  truth. "t 

*  See  upon  this  subject  Cudworth's  Immutable  Morality,  p.  100, 
ct  seq.  and  Price's  Review,  Sec.  p.  50,  2d  Edit. 

t  Mo«  SexH — OTA  'EINAI  TOIOTTON  OTAEN  TOYTOI2  OPFA- 
NON  I A  ION,  «>iA'  <cut>)  01  xurr.i  ri  '■l^v^ri  to,  koh*  fioi  (Pxtvirui  TTCfn  'Xxiiuv 
iViO'x.o'Xtti — 'OfiUi  ot  TtFiircy  -/e  7rg«/3£o>ix««£y,  eio-ti  f/,n  ^»)Tf<»  ccvTi\t  (fTi- 
S-))^)1»)  et  ai<r^r,<rcH  to  cr«^«x«»,  «AA  ti  iitc-ttat  rto  «»a^<«T«,  «t«  war  iy^ti  it 
"^vyyi  orxi  xvTA  y.tcB-  xvrr,v  Trpxyf^tcTiv/irxi  vipt  TA  ONTA. 

The  reproduction  of  the  same  philosophical  doctrines,  in  different 
ages,  in  consequence  of  a  recurrence  of  similar  circumstances,  has 
been  often  remarked  as  a  curious  fact  in  the  history  of  the  human 
mind.  In  the  case  now  before  us,  the  expressions  which  Plato  puts 
into  the  mouth  of  Socrates,  can  be  accounted  for  only  by  the  won- 
derful similarity  between  the  doctrines  of  Protagoras  and  those  of 
some  modern  sceptics.  "  Nothing"  (according  to  Protagoras)  "  is 
•'  true  or  false,  any  more  than  sweet  or  sour  in  itscif,  but  relatively 
"  to  the  perceiving  mind." — '•  Man  is  the  measure  of  all  things;  and 
«  every  thing  is  that,  and  no  other,  which  to  every  one  it  seems  to  be; 
'«  3o  that  there  can  be  nothing  true,  nothing  existent,  distinct  from 


C».al>.IV.j  SOURCES  OF  HUMAN  KNOWLEDGE.  103 

The  discussion  into  which  we  have  been  thus  led  al- 
most insensibly,  about  the  ethical  scepticism  which  seems 
naturally  to  result  from  Locke's  account  of  the  origin  of 
our  ideas,  while  it  serves  to  demonstrate  how  intimate 
the  connection  is  between  those  questions  in  the  science 
of  mind,  which,  on  a  superficial  view,  may  be  supposed 
to  be  altogether  independent  of  each  other,  will,  I  hope» 
suggest  an  apology  for  the  length  of  some  of  my  argu- 
ments upon  scholastic  questions,  apparently  foreign  to 
every  purpose  of  practical  utility.  I  must,  more  especially, 
request,  that  this  consideration  may  be  attended  to,  when 
I  so  often  recur  in  these  pages  to  the  paradox  of  Hume 
and  Berkeley  concerning  the  existence  of  the  material 
world.  It  is  not  that  I  regard  this  theory  of  idealism,  when 
considered  by  itself,  as  an  error  of  any  serious  moment; 
but  because  an  examination  of  it  affords,  in  my  opinion, 
the  most  palpable  and  direct  means  of  exploding  that  prin- 
ciple of  Locke,  to  which  the  most  serious  of  Mr.  Hume's 
sceptical  conclusions,  as  well  as  this  comparatively  inof- 
fensive tenet,  may  be  traced  as  to  their  common  root.  In 
offering  this  apology,  I  would  not  be  understood  to  mag- 
nify, beyond  their  just  value,  the  inquiries  in  which  we 
have  been  now  engaged,  or  those  which  are  immediately 
to  follow.  Their  utility  is  altogether  accidental;  arising, 
not  from  the  positive  accession  they  bring  to  our  stock 
of  scientific  truths,  but  from  the  pernicious  tendency  of 
the  doctrines  to  which  they  are  opposed.  On  this  occa- 
sion, therefore,  I  am  perfectly  willing  to  acquiesce  in  the 

"  the  mind's  own  perceptions."  This  last  maxim,  indeed,  is  men- 
lioned  as  the  fundamental  principle  of  the  theory  of  this  ancient 
sceptic.  n«»T*»i'  ;tP'9.**«Twv  fcetfot  »tS-fMXt))i.  Mir^tn  UctTov  nf^ut  utxt  rat  n 
iiTut  K««^D.  Tei^omou,iitii%.tt^»t^  Txvrm  K»t  iiiui.  Plato  Thextet. 


104  ON  LOCKE'S  ACCOUNT,  kc.  [Essay  I. 

estimate  formed  by  Mr.  Tucker  of  the  limited  importance 
of  metaphysical  studies;  however  much  I  may  be  inclin- 
ed to  dispute  the  universality  of  its  application  to  all  the 
different  branches  of  the  intellectual  philosophy.  Indeed,  I 
shall  esteem  myself  fortunate  (considering  the  magnitude 
of  the  errors  which  I  have  been  attempting  to  correct)  if 
I  shall  be  found  to  have  merited,  in  any  degree,  the  praise 
of  that  humble  usefulness  which  he  has  so  beautifully  de- 
scribed in  the  foUowing  words: 

*'  The  science  of  abstruse  learning,  when  completely 
"  attained,  is  like  Achilles's  spear,  that  healed  the  wounds 
"  it  had  made  before.  It  casts  no  additional  light  upon 
"  the  paths  of  life,  but  disperses  the  clouds  with  which  it 
"  had  overspread  them;  it  advances  not  the  traveller  one 
"  step  on  his  journey,  but  conducts  him  back  again  to  the 
"spot  from  whence  he  had  wandered."* 

*  Light  of  Nature  Pursued.  Introd.  xxxiii.  (London,  17680 


ESSAY  SECOND. 

ON  THE  IDEALISM   OF  BERKELEY, 


CHAPTER  FIRST. 

ON  SOME  PREVAILING  MISTAKES  WITH  RESPECT  TO  THE  IMPORT  AUD 
AIM  OF  THE  BERKELEIAN   SYSTEM. 

It  is  not  my  intention,  in  this  essay,  to  enter  at  all  into 
the  argument  with  respect  to  the  truth  of  the  Berkeleian 
theory;  but  only  to  correct  some  mistakes  concerning  the 
nature  and  scope  of  that  speculation,  which  have  misled 
many  of  its  partizans  as  well  as  of  its  opponents.  Of  these 
mistakes  there  are  two  which  more  particularly  deserve 
our  attention.  The  one  confounds  the  scheme  of  idealism 
with  those  sceptical  doctrines,  which  represent  the  exist- 
ence of  the  material  world  as  a  thing  which  is  doubtful: 
the  other  confounds  it  with  the  physical  theory  of  Bosco- 
vich,  which,  while  it  disputes  the  correctness  of  the  com- 
monly received  opinions  about  some  of  the  qualities  of 
matter,  leaves  altogether  untouched  the  metaphysical  (\aQs- 
tion,  whether  matter  possesses  an  independent  existence, 
or  not? 

1.  It  is  well  known  to  all  who  have  the  slightest  ac. 
quaintance  with  the  history  of  philosophy,  that,  among 
the  various  topics  on  which  the  ancient  sceptics  exercised 

O 


106  ON  THE  IDEALISM  OF  JJEKKELEY.  [Essay  U. 

their  ingenuity,  the  question  concerning  the  existence  of 
the  material  world  was  always  a  favourite  subject  of  dis- 
putation. Some  doubts  on  the  same  point  occur  even  in 
the  writings  of  philosophers,  whose  general  leaning  seems 
to  have  been  to  the  opposite  extreme  of  dogmatism.  Plato 
himself  has  given  them  some  countenance,  by  hinting  it 
as  a  thing  not  quite  impossible,  that  human  life  is  a  con- 
tinued sleep,  and  that  all  our  thoughts  are  only  dreams.* 
This  scepticism  (which  I  am  inclined  to  think  most  per- 
sons have  occasionally  experienced  in  their  early  yearsf) 
proceeds  on  principles  totally  different  from  the  doctrine 
of  Berkeley,  who  asserts,  with  the  most  dogmatical  confi- 
dence, that  the  existence  of  matter  is  impossible,  and  that 
the  very  supposition  of  it  is  absurd.  "  The  existence  of 
"  bodies  out  of  a  mind  perceiving  them,"  (he  tells  us  ex- 
plicitly) "  is  not  only  impossible,  and  a  contradiction  in 
"  terms;  but  were  it  possible,  and  even  real,  it  were  im- 
"  possible  we  should  ever  know  it." 

The  attempt  of  Berkeley  to  disprove  the  existence  of 
the  material  world,  took  its  rise  from  the  attempt  of  Des 
Cartes  to  demonstrate  the  truth  of  the  contrary  proposition. 
Both  undertakings  were  equally  unphilosophical;  for,  to 
argue  in  favour  of  any  of  the  fundamental  laws  of  human 
belief  is  not  less  absurd  than  to  call  them  in  question. 
In  this  argument,  however,  it  must  be  granted,  that  Berke- 
ley had  the  advantage;  the  conclusion  which  he  formed 
being  unavoidable,  if  the  common  principles  be  admitted 

*  T«  av  T<s  ex,u  riic/^ti^iev  UTfo^ei^xi,  et  t<{  ipctro,  rvv  «th>?  iv  tu  Trxftvrt, 
T6T;p«y  x<td'£t;0o^£y,  ^  ttuhtx  ec  ^lavt/fttS-ei  eveifa-rlo/^iv,  £cc.  Sec. 

t "  VVe  are  such  stuff 

"  As  dreams  are  made  on,  and  our  little  life 

"  Is  rounded  with  a  sleep." — Shakspeare,  Tempest. 


Chap.  I.]  ON  THE  ffiEALISM  OF  BERKELEY  107 

on  which  they  both  proceeded.  *  It  was  reserved  for  Dr. 
Reid  to  show,  that  these  principles  are  not  only  unsup- 
ported by  any  proof,  but  contrary  to  incontestable  facts; 
nay,  that  they  are  utterly  inconceivable  from  the  mani- 
fest inconsistencies  and  absurdities  which  they  involve.! 
All  this  he  has  placed  in  so  clear  and  strong  a  light,  that 
Dr.  Priestley,  the  most  acute  of  his  antagonists,  has  found 
nothing  to  object  to  his  argument,  but  that  it  is  directed 
against  a  phantom  of  his  own  creation,  and  that  the  opin- 
ions which  he  combats  were  never  seriously  maintained 
by  any  philosophers,  ancient  or  modern 4 

With  respect  to  Mr.  Hume,  who  is  commonly  consi- 
dered as  an  advocate  for  Berkeley's  system,  the  remarks 
which  I  have  offered  on  the  latter  writer  must  be  under- 
stood with  great  limitations.  For,  although  his  fundamen- 
tal principles  lead  necessarily  to  Berkeley's  conclusion, 
and  although  he  has  frequently  drawn  from  them  this  con- 
clusion himself,  yet,  on  other  occasions,  he  relapses  into 
the  language  of  doubt,  and  only  speaks  of  the  existence 
of  the  material  world,  as  a  thing  of  which  we  have  not 
satisfactory  evidence.  The  truth  is,  that,  whereas  Berke- 
ley was  sincerely  and  bona  fide  an  idealist,  Hume's  lea- 
ding object,  in  his  metaphysical  writings,  plainly  was  to 
inculcate  a  universal  scepticism.  In  this  respect,  the  real 
scope  of  his  arguments  has,  I  think,  been  misunderstood 
by  most,  if  not  by  all  of  his  opponents.  It  evidently  was 
not,  as  they  seem  to  have  supposed,  to  exalt  reasoning  in 
preference  to  our  instinctive  principles  of  belief;  but  by 
illustrating  the  contradictory  conclusions  to  which  our 
different  faculties  lead,  to  involve  the  whole  subject  in 

*  Note  (E),  t  Note  (F).  t  Note  (G). 


108  ON  THE  IDEALISM  OF  BERKELEY.  [Essay  11. 

the  same  suspicious  darkness.  In  other  words,  his  aim 
was  not  to  interrogate  Nature,  with  a  view  to  the  discov- 
ery of  truth,  but  by  a  cross-examination  of  Nature,  to  in- 
volve her  in  such  contradictions,  as  might  set  aside  the 
whole  of  her  evidence  as  good  for  nothing. 

With  respect  to  Berkeley,  on  the  other  hand,  it  ap- 
pears from  his  writings,  not  only  that  he  considered  his 
scheme  of  idealism  as  resting  on  demonstrative  proof,  but 
as  more  agreeable  to  the  common  apprehensions  of  man- 
kind, than  the  prevailing  theories  of  philosophers,  con- 
cerning the  independent  existence  of  the  material  world. 
*'  If  the  principles"  (he  observes  in  the  Preface  to  his 
Dialogues)  *'  which  I  here  endeavour  to  propagate  are 
"  admitted  for  true,  the  consequences  which  I  think  evi- 
*'  dently  flow  from  them  arc,  that  atheism  and  scepticism 
**  will  be  utterly  destroyed;  many  intricate  points  made 
"  plain;  great  difficulties  solved;  speculation  referred  to 
"  practice;  and  men  reduced  from  paradoxes  to  common 
"  sense." 

That  Mr.  Hume  was  perfectly  aware  of  the  essential 
difference  between  the  aim  of  his  own  philosophy  and  that 
of  Berkeley,  is  manifest  from  the  following  very  curious 
note,  in  which,  while  he  represents  it  as  the  common  ten- 
dency of  both  to  lead  to  scepticism,  he  assumes  to  him- 
self entirely  the  merit  of  this  inference.  After  stating  the 
argument  against  the  existence  of  matter,  he  adds:  "  This 
"  argument  is  drawn  from  Dr.  Berkeley;  and  indeed  most 
**  of  the  writings  of  that  very  ingenious  author,  form 
"  the  best  lessons  of  scepticism  which  are  to  be  found 
"  either  among  the  ancient  or  modern  philosophers,  Bayle 
'*  not  excepted.  He  professes,  however,  in  his  title-page, 
*'  (and  undoubtedly  with  great  truth)  to  have  composed 


Chap.  I.J  ON  THE  IDEALISM  OF  BERKELEY.  109 

"  his  book  against  the  sceptics  as  well  as  against  the 
"  atheists  and  free-thinkers.  But  that  all  his  arguments, 
"  though  otherwise  intended,  are  in  reality  merely  scepti- 
"  cal,  appears  from  this,  that  they  admit  of  no  answer^  and 
'■^  produce  no  conviction.  Their  only  effect  is  to  cause  that 
''  momentary  amazement  and  irresolution  and  confusion 
"  which  is  the  result  of  scepticism." 

The  observations  which  have  been  made  on  the  scope 
of  Berkeley's  argument,  may  serve,  at  the  same  time,  to 
illustrate  that  of  Dr  Reid's  reply  to  it,  which  has  been,  in 
general,  strangely  misunderstood.  In  order  to  have  ajust 
idea  of  this,  it  is  necessary  always  to  bear  in  mind,  that  it 
is  not  directed  against  the  sceptical  suggestions  of  the 
Pyrrhonists,  but  against  Berkeley's  inferences  from 
Locke's  principles;  or  rather  against  the  principles  from 
which  these  inferences  were  deduced.  The  object  of  the 
author  is  not  to  bring  forward  any  new  proofs  that  matter 
does  exist,  nor  (as  has  been  often  very  uncandidly  af- 
firmed) to  cut  short  all  discussion  upon  this  question,  by 
an  unphilosophical  appeal  to  popular  belief;  but  to  over- 
turn  the  pretended  demonstration,  that  matter  does  not 
exist,  by  exposing  the  futility  and  absurdity  of  the  prin- 
ciples which  it  assumes  as  data.  That  from  these  data 
(which  had  been  received,  during  a  long  succession  of 
ages,  as  incontrovertible  articles  of  faith,)  both  Berkeley 
and  Hume  have  reasoned  with  unexceptionable  fairness, 
as  well  as  incomparable  acuteness,  he  acknowledges  in 
every  page  of  his  works;  and  only  asserts,  that  the  force 
of  their  conclusion  is  annihilated  by  the  falseness  and  in- 
consistency of  the  hypothesis  on  which  it  rests.  It  is  to 
reasonings  therefore,  and  to  reasoning  alone,  that  he  ap- 
peals, in  combating  their  doctrines;  and  the  ground  of 


110  ON  THE  IDEALISM  OF  BERKELEY.  [Essay  U. 

his  objection  to  these  doctrines  is  not  that  they  evince  a 
blameable  freedom  and  boldness  of  discussion; — but  that 
their  authors  had  suffered  themselves  too  easily  to  be  car- 
ried along  by  the  received  dogmas  of  the  schools. 

The  very  gross  misapprehensions  which  have  taken 
place  with  respect  to  the  scope  of  Dr.  Re  id's  book  have 
probably  been  owing,  in  part,  to  the  unfortunate  title 
which  he  prefixed  to  it,  of  "  An  Inquiry  into  the  Human 
Mind,  on  the  principles  of  Common  Sense.^^  So  far,  how- 
ever, from  meaning,  by  that  phrase,  to  intimate  a  more 
than  due  respect  for  the  established  opinions  of  any  par- 
ticular sect  or  party,  it  must  appear  evident,  to  those  who 
have  taken  the  trouble  to  read  the  work,  that  his  sole  in- 
tention was  to  disclaim  diat  implicit  reverence  for  the 
current  maxims,  and  current  phraseology  of  the  learned, 
which  had  misled  so  widely  his  two  illustrious  predeces- 
sors, Berkeley  and  Hume; — to  assert,  in  this  most  im- 
portant branch  of  science,  an  unlimited  right  of  free  in- 
quiry; and  to  set  an  example  of  this  freedom,  by  appeal- 
ing from  Locke's  fundamental  hypothesis  (a  hypothesis 
for  which  no  argument  can  be  produced  but  the  authority 
of  school -men,)  to  the  unbiassed  reason  of  the  human  race. 
It  is  this  common  reason  of  mankind  which  he  uniformly 
represents  as  the  ultimate  standard  of  truth;  and  of  its 
decisions  he  forms  his  estimate,  neither  from  the  suffrages 
of  the  learned  nor  of  the  ignorant,  but  from  those  funda- 
mental laws  of  belief  which  are  manifested  in  the  univer- 
sal conduct  of  mankind,  in  all  ages  and  countries  of  tlie 
world;  and  to  the  guidance  of  which  the  speculative  scep- 
tic must  necessarily  submit,  the  very  moment  he  quits 
the  solitude  of  the  closet.    It  is  not,  therefore,  vulgar 
prejudice  that  he  wishes  to  oppose  to  philosophical  spe- 
culation, but  the  essential  principles  of  the  human  un- 


CUap.I.J  ON  THE  IDEALISM  OP  BERKELEY.  Ill 

derstanding  to  the  gratuitous  assumptions  of  metaphysi- 
eal  theorists.  But  on  this  topic  I  intend  to  explain  my- 
self more  fully  on  a  future  occasion. 

While  Reid,  however,  in  his  controversy  with  Hume 
and  Berkeley,  thus  opposes  argument  to  argument,  he 
does  not  follow  the  example  of  Des  Cartes^  in  attempting 
to  confirm  our  belief  of  the  existence  of  matter,  by  the 
aid  of  deductive  evidence.  All  such  evidence,  he  justly 
observes,  must  necessarily  take  for  granted  some  princi- 
ples not  more  certain  nor  more  obvious  than  the  thing  to 
be  proved;  and  therefore  can  add  nothing  to  its  authority 
with  men  who  have  duly  weighed  the  nature  of  reason- 
ing and  of  demonstrative  proof.  Nor  is  this  all.  Where 
scepticism  is  founded  on  a  suspicion  of  the  possible  falli- 
bility of  the  human  faculties,  the  very  idea  of  correcting  it 
by  an  appeal  to  argument  is  nugatory;  inasmuch  as  such  an 
appeal  virtually  takes  for  granted  the  paramount  autho- 
rity of  those  laws  of  belief  which  the  sceptic  calls  in  ques- 
tion. The  belief,  therefore,  of  the  existence  of  matter,  is 
left  by  Dr.  Reid  on  the  very  same  footing  on  which  Des 
Cartes  found  it;  open,  as  it  then  was,  and  as  it  must  for 
ever  remain,  to  the  sceptical  cavils  which  affect  equally 
every  judgment  which  the  human  mind  is  capable  of 
forming;  but  freed  comnletely  from  those  metaphysical 
objections  which  assailed  it,  as  at  variance  with  the  con- 
clusions of  philosophy. 

But  although,  in  so  far  as  the  argument  of  the  Berke- 
leians  is  concerned,  Dr.  Reid's  reasonings  appear  to  me 
to  be  unanswerable,  I  am  not  completely  satisfied  that  he 
has  stated  the  fact  on  his  own  side  of  the  question  with 
sufficient  fulness  and  correctness.  The  grounds  of  my 
hesitation  on  this  point  I  propose  to  explain  at  some 
length,  in  the  second  chapter  of  this  essay.  In  the  mean 


112  ON  THE  IDEALISM  OF  BERKELEY.  LEssay  li. 

time,  I  think  it  of  still  greater  importance,  to  caution  my 
readers  against  another  misapprehension  (equally  remote 
with  the  former  from  truth)  by  which  the  Berkeleian  con- 
troversy has  been  involved,  by  some  late  writers,  in  ad- 
ditional obscurity. 

2.  In  order  to  prepare  the  way  for  the  remarks  which 
are  to  follow,  it  is  necessary  to  observe  (for  the  sake  of 
those  who  are  little  conversant  with  the  history  of  natu- 
ral philosophy),  that,  according  to  an  ingenious  theory, 
proposed  about  fifty  years  ago  by  Father  Boscovich,* 
the  notions  which  are  commonly  entertained  concerning 
the  qualities  of  matter,  are  the  result  of  very  rash  and  un- 
warranted inferences  from  the  phenomena  perceived.  The 
ultimate  elements  (we  are  taught)  of  which  matter  is  com- 
posed, are  unextended  atoms,  or  in  other  words,  mathe- 
matical points,  endued  with  certain  powers  of  attraction 
and  repulsion;  and  it  is  from  these  powers  that  all  the 
physical  appearances  of  the  universe  arise.  The  effects, 
for  example,  which  are  vulgarly  ascribed  to  actual  con- 
tact, are  all  produced  by  repulsive  forces  occupying  those 
parts  of  space  where  bodies  are  perceived  by  our  senses; 
and  therefore  the  correct  idea  that  we  ought  to  annex  to 
matter,  considered  as  an  object  of  perception,  is  merely 
that  of  a  power  of  resistance,  sufficient  to  counteract  that 
compressing  power  which  our  physical  strength  enables 
us  to  exert. 

With  regard  to  this  theory,  I  shall  not  presume  to  give 
any  decided  opinion.  That  it  is  attended  with  some  very 
puzzling  difficulties  of  a  metaphysical  nature,  must,  I 
think,  be  granted  by  its  most  zealous  advocates;  but,  on 
the  other  hand,  it  can  scarcely  be  denied,  that  the  author, 

*  Theoria  Philosophic  Mituralis.  (First  published  at  Vienna,  in 
i758.) 

2 


CUap.  L]  ON  THE  IDE AUSM  OF  BERKELEY.  1J3 

or  his  commentators,  have  been  successful  in  establishing 
three  propositions.  1.  That  the  supposition  of  particles,  ex- 
tended and  perfectly  hard,  is  liable  to  strong,  if  not  to  in- 
surmountable objections.  2.  That  there  are  no  facts  which 
afford  any  direct  evidence  in  support  of  it.  And,  3.  That 
there  are  some  indisputable  facts  which  favour  the  oppo- 
site hypothesis.  In  proof  of  the  last  proposition,  among 
a  variety  of  other  arguments,  an  appeal  has  been  made  to 
the  compressibility  and  elasticity  of  all  known  bodies;  to 
their  contraction  by  cold;  and  to  certain  optical  and  elec- 
trical experiments,  which  shew  that  various  effects,  which 
our  imperfect  senses  lead  us  to  ascribe  to  the  actual  con- 
tact of  different  bodies,  are,  in  fact,  produced  by  a  repul- 
sive power,  extending  to  a  real,  though  imperceptible  dis- 
tance from  their  surfaces.  The  same  phenomena,  there- 
fore, may  be  produced  by  repulsion,  which  we  commonly 
ascribe  to  contact;  and  if  so,  why  not  refer  to  the  same 
cause  all  effects  of  the  same  nature?* 

*  The  following  passage  in  Locke,  when  considered  in  connectioji 
with  some  others  in  his  writings,  would  almost  tempt  one  to  think, 
that  a  theory  conaerning  matter^  somewhat  analogous  to  that  oi  Bos.' 
covic/i,  had  occasionally  passed  thi'ough  his  mind. — "Nay,  possibly, 
"  if  we  could  emancipate  ourselves  from  vulgar  notions,  and  raise 
"  our  thoughts  as  far  as  they  could  reach,  to  a  closer  contemplation 
*'  of  things,  we  might  be  able  to  aim  at  some  dim  and  seeming  con- 
**  ception,  how  matter  might  at  first  be  made,  and  begin  to  exist  by 
"  the  power  of  that  eternal  first  Being. — But  this  being  what  would 
"  perhaps  lead  us  too  far  from  the  notions  on  which  the  philosophy 
"now  in  the  world  is  built,  it  would  not  be  pardonable  to  deviate  so 
"  far  from  them  as  to  inquire,  so  far  as  grammar  itself  would  au- 
"  thorize,if  the  common  settled  opinion  opposes  it."— Essay  on  Hu- 
man Understanding,  Book  iv.  chap.  x.  §  18. 

Whosoever  chooses  to  examine  the  grounds  upon  which  I  have 
hazarded  the  foregoing  observation,  may  compare  the  passage  just 
quoted  with  what  Locke  has  said  of  coheaion,  in  Bookii.  chap,  xxiii. 
^^  23,  24,  et  seq.  more  particularly  in  ^§26  and  27. 

P 


114  ON  THE  IDEALISM  OF  BERKELEY.  [Essay  IL 

A  theory,  essentially  the  same  with  this,  has  been  pro- 
posed of  late  by  different  writers  in  this  island,  who  seem 
to  have  been  led  to  it  entirely  by  their  own  speculations, 
without  any  knowledge  of  its  having  been  previously  start- 
ed by  another;  and  it  has  been  in  consequence  of  the 
particular  view  which  some  of  them  have  taken  of  the 
subject,  that  the  misapprehension  which  I  am  anxious  at 
present  to  correct  has  chiefly  arisen.  In  fact,  the  systems 
of  Boscovich,  and  of  Berkeley,  have  not  the  most  remote 
relation  to  each  other.  The  account,  indeed,  of  some  of 
the  qualities  of  matter  which  is  given  in  the  former,  is 
very  different  from  that  commonly  entertained,  but  this 
account  does  not  call  in  Question  the  reality  of  matter,  as 
an  existence  distinct  from  the  perceiving  mind.  It  does 
not  affect,  in  the  least,  our  notions  of  extension  and  figure; 
nor  even  those  of  hardness  and  softness,  any  further,  than 
as  it  defines  these  qualities  by  the  relation  which  they  bear 
to  our  animal  force.  The  resistance  opposed  to  our  efforts 
implies  an  existence  distinct  from  ours,  as  much  as  the 

From  the  same  passage,  Dr.  Reid  conjectures,  that  "  Locke  had 
"  a  glimpse  of  the  system  which  Berkeley  afterwards  advanced, 
"  although  he  thought  proper  to  suppress  it  within  his  own  breast." 
(Essays  on  the  Intell.  Powers,  p.  170.)  I  think  it  much  more  proba- 
ble, from  the  hints  he  has  dropped  in  other  parts  of  his  essay,  that 
he  had  some  vague  notion  of  a  theory  approaching  to  that  of  Bos- 
covich.   The  following  remark  confirms  me  in  this  conjecture: 

"  Hardness  consists  in  a  firm  cohesion  of  the  parts  of  matter,  mak- 
*'  ing  up  masses  of  a  sensible  bulk,  so  that  the  whole  does  not  easily 
"  change  its  figure.  And,  indeed,  hard  and  soft  are  names  that  we  give 
"  to  things  only  in  relation  to  the  constitution  of  our  own  bodies;  that 
"  being  generally  called  hard  by  us,  which  will  put  us  to  pain  soon- 
"  er  than  change  figiu'e  by  the  pressure  of  any  part  of  our  bodies; 
"  and  that,  on  the  contrary,  soft,  which  changes  the  situation  of  its 
"  parts  upon  an  easy  and  unpainful  touch."  Book  ii.  chap.  iv.  §  4. — 
See  Note  (H). 


Chap.  I.]  ON  THE  IDEALISM  OP  BERKELEY.  115 

efforts  we  are  conscious  of  making  imply  our  own  exist- 
ence; and  therefore,  whether  we  proceed  on  the  common 
notions  concerning  matter,  or  on  the  hypothesis  of  Bos- 
covich,  the  authority  of  that  law  of  our  nature  which 
leads  us  to  ascribe  to  things  external  an  independent  and 
permanent  existence,  remains  unshaken.  According  to 
Berkeley,  extension  and  figure,  hardness  and  softness, 
and  all  other  sensible  qualities,  are  mere  ideas  of  the  mind, 
which  cannot  possibly  exist  in  an  insentient  substance.* 

That  the  inference  which  I  have  now  drawn  against  the 
scheme  of  idealism,  from  the  theory  of  Boscovich,  is  per^ 
fectly  agreeable  to  the  metaphysical  views  of  that  pro- 
found and  original  philosopher,  appears  from  various  pas- 
sages in  his  works:  in  particular,  from  the  following  ob- 
servations, which  I  translate  literally  from  one  of  his  sup- 
plements to  the  didactic  poem  of  Benedictus  Stay,  De 
Systemate  Mundi: 

"By  the  power  of  rejiection,  we  are  enabled  to  distin- 
"  guish  two  different  classes  of  ideas  excited  in  our  minds. 
*'  To  some  of  these  we  are  impelled,  by  a  very  powerful 
"  instinct y  common  to  all  men^  to  ascribe  an  origin  foreign 
**  to  the  mind  itself,  and  depending  on  certain  external 
*'  objects.  Others,  we  believe  with  the  most  complete 
"  conviction  to  have  their  origin  in  the  mind,  and  to  de- 

*  A  remark  to  the  same  purpose  has  been  made  by  Mr.  Smith, 
in  his  Essay  on  the  External  Senses.  "  Whatever  system  may  be 
"  adopted  concerning  the  hardness  or  softness,  the  fluidity  or  soli- 
"  dity,  the  compressibility  or  incompressibility  of  the  resisting  sub- 
<'  stance,  the  certainty  of  our  distinct  sense,  and  feeling  of  its  ex- 
"  ternality,  or  of  its  entire  independency  upon  the  organ  which  per- 
"  ceives  it,  or  by  which  we  perceive  it,  cannot,  in  the  smallest  de- 
"  gree,  be  affected  by  any  such  system,"— Essays  on  Philosophicg^I 
Subjects,  p.  204. 


116  ON  THE  IDEALISM  OV  BERKELEY.  fEssay  11. 

"  pend  on  the  mind  for  their  existence.  The  instruments 
*'  or  organs  by  which  we  receive  the  fir^t  kind  of  ideas 
"  are  called  the  senses:  their  external  cause,  or,  as  it  is 
"  commonly  called,  the  object^  is  denoted  by  the  words 
''  matter  and  body.  The  source  of  the  second  class  of  our 
"  ideas  (which  we  discover  by  reflecting  on  the  subjects 
"  of  our  own  consciousness)  is  called  the  mind  or  soul. 

**  In-  this  manner  we  become  acquainted  with  two  dif- 
"  ferent  kinds  of  substances  (the  072/y  substances  of  which 
*'  we  possess  any  knowledge);  the  one,  a  sensible  or  per- 
"  ceptible  substance;  the  other,  a  substance  endowed  with 
"  the  powers  of  thought  and  of  volition.  Of  the  existence 
"  of  neither  is  it  possible  for  us  to  doubt,  (such  is  the  force 
"  of  those  intimations  we  receive  from  nature);  not  even 
"  in  those  cases  when,  offering  violence  to  ourselves,  we 
*'  listen  to  the  suggestions  of  the  PjTrhonists  and  Egoists, 
"  and  other  sophistical  perverters  of  the  truth.  Nay,  even 
"  these  sceptics  themselves  are  forced  to  acknowledge, 
"  that  whatever  doubts  they  may  have  experienced  in  their 
"hours  of  speculation,  vanish  completely  when  the  ob- 
"  jects  of  their  doubts  are  presented  to  their  senses."* 

I  do  not  take  upon  me  to  defend  the  propriety  of  all  the 
expressions  employed  in  the  foregoing  passage.  I  quote 
it  merely  as  a  proof,  that  Boscovich  himself  did  not  con- 
ceive, that  his  peculiar  notions  concerning  the  nature  of 
"matter  had  the  slightest  tendency  to  favour  the  conclu- 
sions  of  Berkeley.  On  the  contrary,  he  states  his  dissent 
from  these  conclusions  in  the  strongest  and  most  deci- 
ded terms;  coinciding  so  exactly  with  Reid  in  the  very 
phraseology  he  uses,  as  to  afford  a  presumption,  that  it  ap- 
proaches nearly  to  a  correct  and  simple  enunciation  of  the 

iiTith. 

*  Romas,  1755.  T.  i.  p.  33  K 


Chap.  I]  ON  THE  IDEALISM  OF  BERKELEY.  117 

In  the  foregoing  remarks  on  Boscovich's  theory,  con- 
sidered in  contrast  with  that  of  Berkeley,  I  have  had  an 
eye  chiefly  to  some  speculations  of  the  late  Dr.  Hutton; 
a  philosopher  eminently  distinguished  by  originality  of 
thought;  and  whose  writings  could  not  have  failed  to 
attract  much  more  notice  than  they  have  yet  done,  if 
the  great  variety  of  his  scientific  pursuits  had  left  him  a 
little  more  leisure  to  cultivate  the  arts  of  composition  and 
of  arrangement.  It  would  be  fortunate,  in  this  respect,  for 
his  literary  fame,  if  the  same  friendly  and  skilful  hand 
which  has  illustrated  and  adorned  his  geological  re- 
searches, would  undertake  the  task  of  guiding  us  through 
the  puzzling,  but  interesting  labyrinth  of  his  metaphy- 
sical discussions. 

The  following  is  the  conclusion  of  Dr.  Hutto^'s  argu- 
ment concerning  hardness  and  incompressibility: 

*'  In  thus  distinguishing  things,  it  will  appear,  that  in- 
"  compressibility  and  hardness,  i.  e.  powers  resisting  the 
"change  of  volume  and  figure,  are  the  properties  of  an 
*'  external  body;  and  that  these  are  the  essential  qualities 
"  of  that  extended,  figured  thing,  so  far  as  it  is  only  in 
"  these  resisting  powers  that  the  conceived  thing,  termed 
"  bodi/,  is  judged  to  subsist. 

"But  these  properties  of  body,  or  those  powers,  are 
"  not  found  to  be  absolute;  so  far  as  a  hard  body  may  be 
"  either  broken  or  made  soft,  and  so  far  as,  by  compres- 
"  sion,  a  body  may  be  diminished  in  its  volume. 

"  Hence,  the  judgment  that  has  been  formed  from  the 
"  resistance  of  the  external  thing,  is,  in  some  measure,  to 
"  be  changed;  and  that  first  opinion,  with  regard  to  appa- 
"  rent  permanency,  which  might  have  been  formed  from 
"  the  resistance  of  the  perceived  thing,  must  now  yield  to 


118  ON  THE  IDEALISM  OF  BERKELEY.  [Essay  II. 

"  the  positive  testimony  of  the  sense,  whereby  the  body 
"  is  perceived  to  be  actually  diminished.  That  power  of 
"  resistance  therefore,  from  whence  a  state  of  permanency 
"  had  been  concluded,  is  now  found  to  be  overcome;  and 
*'  those  apparent  properties  of  the  body  are,  with  all  the 
"  certainty  of  human  observation,  known  to  be  changed. 

*'  But  if  the  resistance,  which  is  opposed  by  a  natural 
"  body  to  the  exertion  of  our  will,  endeavouring  to  des- 
"  troy  the  volume,  should  be  as  perfectly  overcome,  Jfs 
"  is  that  of  hardness  in  fluidity,  then  the  common  opinion 
*'  of  mankind,  which  supposes  the  extension  of  a  body  to 
"be  permanent,  would  necessarily  be  changed.  For,  at 
"  present,  we  think  that  this  resisting  power,  which 
"  preserves  volume  in  bodies,  is  absolutely  in  its  nature 
"insurmountable,  as  it  certainly  is  in  relation  to  our 
"  moving  power. 

"  Instead  then  of  Saying,  that  matter,  of  which  natural 
"  bodies  are  composed,  is  perfectly  hard  and  impenetra- 
"  ble,  which  is  the  received  opinion  of  philosophers,  we 
"  would  afiirm,  that  there  is  no  permanent  property  of  this 
"  kind  in  a  material  thing,  but  that  there  are  certain  resist- 
"  ingpowers  in  bodies,  by  which  their  volumes  and  figures 
"  are  presented  to  us  in  the  actual  information;  which 
"  powers,  however,  might  be  overcome.  In  that  case,  the 
"  extension  of  the  most  solid  body  would  be  considered 
"  only  as  a  conditional  thing,  like  the  hardness  of  a  body  of 
"  ice;  which  hardness  is,  in  the  aqueous  state  of  that  body, 
"  perfectly  destroyed."* 

All  this  coincides  perfectly  with  the  opinions  of  Bosco- 
vich;  and  it  must,  I  think,  appear  conclusive  to  every  per- 

*  Dissertations  on  different  subjects  in  Natural  Philosophy,  pp. 
289, and  290.  : 


Chap.  I.  j  ON  THE  IDEALISM  OF  BERKELEY.  119 

son  who  reflects  on  the  subject  with  due  attention.  Nor 
is  there  any  thing  in  the  doctrine  it  maintains,  repugnant 
to  the  natural  apprehensions  of  the  mind;  or  requiring, 
for  its  comprehension,  habits  of  metaphysical  refinement. 
Indeed  it  amounts  to  nothing  more  than  to  the  following 
incontestable  remark  which  was  long  before  made  by 
Berkeley;  "  that  both  hardness  and  resistance"  (which 
words  he  considers  as  perfectly  synonymous  with  soli- 
dity) *'  are  plainly  relative  to  our  senses;  it  being  evi- 
"  dent,  that  what  seems  hard  to  one  animal,  may  appear 
*'  soft  to  another,  who  hath  greater  force  and  firmness  of 
'*  limbs."* 

The  case,  however,  is  very  different,  when  we  find  Dr. 
Berkeley  and  Dr.  Hutton  attempting  to  place  extension 
and  figure  on  the  same  footing  with  hardness  and  resis- 
tance. The  former  of  these  writers,  seems  to  have  con- 
sidered the  ideal  existence  of  extension  as  still  more  mani- 
fest than  that  of  solidity;  having  employed  the  first  of 
these  propositions,  as  a  medium  of  proof  for  the  establish- 
ment of  the  other.  "  If  extension  be  once  acknowledged 
"  to  have  no  existence  without  the  mind,  the  same 
"  must  necessarily  be  granted  of  motion,  solidity,  and 
"  gravity,  since  they  all  evidently  suppose  extension.  It  is 
"therefore  superfluous  to  inquire  particularly  concerning 
"  each  of  them.  In  denying  extension,  you  have  denied 
"  them  all  to  have  any  real  existence."! 

That  Dr  Button's  opinion  concerning  magnitude  and 
figure  coincided  exactly  with  that  of  Berkeley,  appears 
not  only  from  the  general  scope  of  his  Theory  of  Percep 

*  Berkeley's  Works.— -Dublin,  1784,  p.  133,  Vel.  1 
tVol.  I.  p.  V33. 


120  0\  THE  IDEALISM  OF  CF.UKELEY.  f^ssay  H. 

tions;  but  from  the  account  which  he  himself  has  given 
of  the  various  particulars  by  which  he  conceived  that  the- 
ory to  be  discriminated  from  the  Berkeleian  system.  *'  It 
"'  may  now"  (says  he) "  be  proper  to  observe,  that  the 
"  theory  here  given  of  perception,  although  at  first  sight 
"  it  may  be  thought  similar  to  that  of  Dr.  Berkeley,  will 
"  be  found  to  differ  from  it,  both  in  its  nature  and  in  its 
'*  operation  upon  science;  although  the  conclusion^  that 
*'  magnitude  and  figure  do  not  exist  externally  in  relation 
*'  to  the  mind ^  follows  naturally  as  a  consequence  ofhothy 

"  It  is  indeed"  (he  continues)  "  a  necessary  conse- 
*'  quence  of  both  theories,  that  magnitude  and  figure  do 
**  hot  exist  in  nature,  or  subsist  externally,  but  that  these 
"  are  purely  spiritual,  or  ideas  in  the  mind:  This^  how- 
*'  ever^  is  the  only  point  in  which  the  two  theories  agree.^^^ 

It  would  be  altogether  foreign  to  my  present  purpose 
to  attempt  to  follow  the  very  ingenious  author  through 
the  elaborate  exposition  which  he  has  given  of  the  charac- 
teristical  peculiarities  of  his  own  doctrine.  I  have  studied 
it  with  all  the  attention  in  my  power;  but  without  being 
able  fully  to  comprehend  its  meaning.  As  far  as  I  can 
judge,  the  obscurity  which  hangs  over  it  arises,  in  a  great 
measure,  from  a  mistaken  connection  which  Dr.  Hutton 
had  supposed  between  his  own  physical  conclusions  con- 
cerning hardness,  or  relative  incompressibility,  and  Berke- 
ley's metaphysical  argument  against  the  independent  ex- 
istence of  things  external.  How  clearly  this  distinction  was 
seized  by  Boscovich,  is  demonstrated  by  a  passage  already 
quoted:  And  accordingly,  it  may  be  remarked,  that,  not- 
withstanding the  numerous  objections  which  have  been 

*  Mutton's  Principles  of  Knowledge,  Vol.  I.  p.  357. 

2 


Chap.  I.]  ON  THE  IDEALISM  OP  BERKELEY.  121 

made  to  the  validity  of  his  reasonings,  none  of  his  critics 
have  refused  him  the  praise  of  the  most  luminous  perspi- 
cuity. 

The  truth  is,  that,  while  the  conclusions  of  Boscovich 
and  of  Hutton,  with  respect  to  matter,  so  far  as  hardness, 
or  relative  incompressibility  is  concerned,  offer  no  vio- 
lence to  the  common  judgments  of  mankind,  but  only 
aim  at  a  more  correct  and  scientific  statement  of  the  fact 
than  is  apt  t©  occur  to  our  first  hasty  apprehensions, — 
the  assertion  of  Berkeley,  that  extension  and  Jigure  have 
merely  an  ideal  or  (as  Dr.  Hutton  calls  it)  a  spiritual  ex- 
istence, tends  to  unhinge  the  whole  frame  of  the  human 
understanding,  by  shaking  our  confidence  in  those  prin- 
ciples of  belief  which  form  an  essential  part  of  its  consti- 
tution. But  on  this  point  I  shall  have  an  opportunity  of 
explaining  myself  more  fully,  in  the  course  of  some  ob- 
servations which  I  propose  to  offer  on  the  philosophy  of 
Dr.  Reid. 


Q 


122  ON  THE  IDEALISM  OF  BERKELEY  [Eas^y  11. 


CHAPTER  SECOND. 

SECTION  FIRST 

On  the  foundation  of  our  belief  of  the  existence  of  tlie  material  world,  accord- 
ing to  the  statement  of  Reid. — Strictures  on  that  statement. 

1  HAVE  already  said,  that  Reid's  account  of  the  exist- 
ence  of  matter,  ahhough  correct  so  far  as  it  goes,  does 
not  embrace  all  the  circumstances  of  the  question.  The 
grounds  of  this  observation  I  shall  endeavour  to  explain 
with  all  possible  brevity:  but  before  proceeding  to  the 
discussion,  it  is  necessary  for  me  to  premise  some  re- 
marks on  a  principle  of  our  constitution,  which  may  at 
first  sight  appear  very  foreign  to  the  present  argument;  I 
mean,  our  belief  of  the  permanence  or  stability  of  the  order 
of  nature. 

That  all  our  physical  reasonings,  and  all  those  observa- 
tions on  the  course  of  events,  which  lay  the  foundation  of 
foresight  or  sagacity^  iniply  an  expectation,  that  the  order 
of  things  will,  in  time  to  come,  continue  similar  to  what 
we  have  experienced  it  to  be  in  time  past,  is  a  fact  too 
obvious  to  stand  in  need  of  illustration;  but  it  is  not  equally 
clear,  how  this  expectation  arises  at  first  in  the  mind. 
Mr.  Hume  resolves  it  into  the  association  of  ideas,  which 
leads  us,  after  having  seen  two  events  often  conjoined,  to 
anticipate  the  second,  whenever  we  see  the  first; — a  theory 
to  which  a  very  strong  objection  immediately  presents 
itself.  That  a  single  experiment  is  sufficient  to  create  as 


Chap.  H.J  ON  THE  IDEALISM  OF  BERKELEY.  123 

Strong  a  belief  of  the  constancy  of  the  result  as  ten  thou- 
sand. When  a  philosopher  repeats  an  experiment  for  the 
sake  of  greater  certainty,  his  hesitation  does  not  proceed 
from  any  doubt,  that,  in  the  same  circumstances,  the  same 
phenomena  will  be  exhibited;  but  from  an  apprehension^ 
that  he  may  not  have  attended  duly  to  all  the  different 
circumstan«es  in  which  the  first  experiment  was  made. 
If  the  second  experiment  should  differ  in  its  result  from 
the  first,  he  will  not  suspect  that  any  change  has  taken 
place  in  the  laws  of  nature;  but  will  instantly  conclude, 
that  the  circumstances  attending  the  two  experiments 
have  not  been  exactly  the  same. 

It  will  be  said,  perhaps^  that  although  oilr  belief  in  this 
instance  is  not  founded  on  a  repetition  of  one  single  ex- 
periment, it  is  founded  on  a  long  course  of  experience 
with  respect  to  the  order  of  nature  in  general.  We  have 
learned,  from  a  number  of  cases  formerly  examined,  that 
this  order  continues  uniform;  and  we  apply  this  deduction 
as  a  rule  to  guide  our  anticipations  of  the  result  of  every 
new  experiment  that  we  make*  This  opinion  is  support- 
ed by  Dr.  Campbell  in  his  Philosophy  of  Rhetoric;  but 
it  seems  to  me  to  afford  a  Very  unsatisfactory  solution 
of  the  difficulty.  It  plainly  differs  essentially  from  Mr. 
Hume's  theory;  for  it  states  the  fact  in  such  a  manner,  as 
excludes  the  possibility  of  accounting  for  it  by  the  asso- 
ciation of  ideas;  while,  at  the  same  time,  it  suggests  no 
other  principle,  by  means  of  which  any  plausible  expla- 
nation of  it  may  be  obtained.  Granting,  at  present^  for 
the  sake  of  argument,  that  after  having  seen  a  stone  often 
fall,  the  associating  principle  alone  might  lead  me  to  ex- 
pect a  similar  event,  when  I  drop  another  stone;  the  ques- 
tion still  recurs,  (supposing  my  experience  to  have  beeti 


124  ON  THE  IDEALISM  OF  BEKKELEY.  [Essay  II. 

hitherto  hmited  to  the  descent  of  heavy  bodies) — Whence 
arises  my  anticipation  of  the  result  of  a  pneumatical,  an 
optical,  or  a  chemical  experiment?  According,  therefore, 
to  Campbell's  doctrine,  we  must  here  employ  a  process 
of  analogical  reasoning.  The  course  of  nature  has  been 
found  uniform  in  all  our  experiments  concerning  heavy 
bodies;  and  therefore  we  may  conclude,  by  analogy,  that 
it  will  also  be  uniform  in  all  other  experiments  we  may 
devise,  whatever  be  the  class  of  phenomena  to  which 
they  may  relate.  It  is  difficult  to  suppose,  that  such  a  pro- 
cess of  reasoning  should  occur  to  children  or  savages; 
and  yet  I  apprehend,  that  a  child  who  had  once  burned 
his  finger  with  a  candle,  would  dread  the  same  result,  if 
the  same  operation .  were  to  be  repeated.  Nor,  indeed, 
would  the  case  be  different,  in  similar  circumstances, 
with  one  of  the  lower  animals. 

In  support  of  his  own  conclusion  on  this  subject.  Dr. 
Campbell  asserts,*  "  that  experience,  or  the  tendency  of 
"  the  mind  to  associate  ideas  under  the  notion  of  causes 
"  and  effects,  is  never  contracted  by  one  example  only." 
He  admits,  at  the  same  time,  that  in  consequence  of  the 
analogical  reasoning  which  I  mentioned,  natural  philoso- 
phers consider  a  single  experiment,  accurately  made,  as 
decisive  with  respect  to  a  theory.  It  is  evident  that,  upon 
this  supposition,  children,  and  the  vulgar,  must  see  two 
events  often  conjoined,  before  they  apprehend  the  relation 
of  cause  and  effect  to  subsist  between  them;  whereas  the 
truth  is,  that  persons  of  little  experience  are  always  prone 
to  apprehend  a  constant  connection,  even  when  they  see 
a  merely  accidental  conjunction.  So  firmly  are  they  per- 

*No.  l.p.  137. 


Chap,  n.]  ON  THE  IDEALISM  OF  BERKELEY.  125 

suaded,  that  every  change  requires  a  cause,  and  so  eager 
to  discover  it,  that  they  lay  hold  of  the  event  immediately 
preceding  it,  as  something  on  which  they  may  rest  their 
curiosity;  and  it  is  experience  alone  that  corrects  this  dis- ' 
position,  by  teaching  them  caution  in  investigating  the 
general  laws  which  form  a  part  of  the  order  of  the  uni- 
verse.* 

From  these  observations,  it  seems  to  follow,  that  our 
expectation  of  the  continuance  of  the  laws  of  nature  is 
not  the  result  of  the  association  of  ideas,  nor  of  any  other 
principle  generated  by  experience  alone;  and  Mr.  Hume 
has  shown,  with  demonstrative  evidence,  that  it  cannot 

*  The  account  which  is  given  in  the  Encyclojicedia  Britannica  of 
the  conclusiveness  of  a  single  experiment  in  proof  of  a  general  law 
of  nature  is,  at  bottom,  the  very  same  with  the  theory  of  Campbell; 
and  therefore  a  separate  consideration  of  it  is  unnecessaiy. — This 
will  appear  evident  from  the  following  extract. 

"  Experimental  philosophy  seems,  at  first  sight,  in  direct  op- 
'*  position  to  the  procedure  of  nature  in  forming  general  laws."  (The 
expression  here  is  somewhat  ambiguous;  but  the  author  plainly 
means, — in  opposition  to  the  natural  procedure  of  the  mind,  in  the 
investigation  of  general  laws.)  "  These  are  formed  by  induction 
"  from  multitudes  of  individual  facts,  and  must  be  affirmed  to  no 
"  greater  extent  than  the  induction  on  which  they  are  founded.  Yet 
"  it  is  a  matter  of  fact,  a  physical  law  of  human  thought,  that  one 
"  simple,  clear,  and  unequivocal  experiment,  gives  us  the  most 
"  complete  confidence  in  the  truth  of  a  general  conclusion  from  it 
"  to  every  similar  case.  Whence  this  anomaly?  It  is  not  an  anomaly, 
••<  or  contradiction  of  the  general  maxim  of  philosophical  investiga- 
"  tion,  but  the  most  refined  application  of  it.  There  is  no  law  more 
"  general  than  this,  that  *  nature  is  constant  in  all  her  operations.' 
^'  The  judicious  and  simple  form  of  our  experiment  insures  us  (we 
-  imagine)  in  the  complete  knowledge  of  all  the  circumstances  of  the 
''  event.  Upon  this  supposition,  and  this  alone,  we  consider  the  ex- 
"  periment  as  the  faithful  representative  of  every  possible  case  of 
"the  conjunction." — (Article  Philosophy,  §  57.  .Sec  also  (in  the 
same  volume)  article  Physics,  §  103.) 


126  ON  tfrE  IDEALISM  6f  UERKELEY.  [Essay  II. 

be  resolved  into  any  process  of  reasoning  a  priori.  Till, 
therefore,  some  more  satisfactory  analysis  of  it  shall  ap- 
pear than  has  yet  been  proposed,  we  are  unavoidably  led 
to  state  it  as  an  original  law  of  human  belief.  In  doing  so, 
I  am  not  influenced  by  any  wish  to  multiply  unnecessarily 
original  laws  or  ultimate  truths;  nor  by  any  apprehension 
of  the  consequences  that  might  result  from  an  admission 
of  any  one  of  the  theories  in  question.  They  are  all  of 
them,  so  far  as  I  can  see,  equally  harmless  in  their  ten- 
dency; but  all  of  them  equally  unfounded  and  nugatory, 
answering  no  purpose  whatever,  but  to  draw  a  veil  over 
ignorance,  and  to  divert  the  attention,  by  the  parade  of  a 
theoretical  phraseology,  from  a  plain  and  most  important 
fact  in  the  constitution  of  the  mind. 

In  treating  of  a  very  different  subject,  I  had  occasion, 
in  a  former  work,*  to  refer  to  some  philosophical  opinions 
of  Mr.  Turgot,  coinciding  nearly  with  those  which  I  have 
now  stated.  These  opinions  are  detailed  by  the  author,  at 
considerable  length,  in  the  article  Existence  of  the  French 
Encyciopedie;  but  a  conciser  and  clearer  account  of  them 
may  be  found  in  Condorcet's  discourse,  prefixed  to  his 
essay  *'  On  the  application  of  analysis  to  the  probability 
"  of  decisions  pronounced  by  a  majority  of  votes."  From 
this  account  it  appears,  that  Turgot  resolved  "  our  belief 
"  of  the  existence  of  the  material  world"  into  our  belief 
of  the  continuance  of  "  the  laws  of  nature;"  or,  in  other 
words,  that  he  conceived  our  belief,  in  the  former  of  these 
instances,  to  amount  merely  to  a  conviction  of  the  es- 
tablished order  of  physical  events;  and  to  an  expectation 
that,  in  the  same  combination  of  circumstances,  the  same 

*  Philosophy  of  the  Human  Mind,  chap.  iv.  sect.  5 , 


Chap.n.3  ON  THE  IDEALISM  OF  BERKELEY.  127 

event  will  recur.  It  has  always  appeared  to  me,  that  some- 
thing of  this  sort  was  necessary  to  complete  Dr.  Reid's 
speculations  on  the  Berkeleian  controversy;  for  although 
he  has  shown  our  notions  concerning  the  primary  quali- 
ties of  bodies  to  be  connected,  by  an  original  law  of  our 
constitution,  with  the  sensations  which  they  excite  in  our 
minds,  he  "has  taken  no  notice  of  the  grounds  of  our  be- 
lief that  these  qualities  have  an  existence  independent  of 
our  perceptions.  This  belief  (as  I  have  elsewhere  observ- 
ed*) is  plainly  the  result  of  experience;  inasmuch  as  a 
repetition  of  the  perceptive  act  must  have  been  prior  to 
any  judgment,  on  our  part,  with  respect  to  the  separate 
and  permanent  reality  of  its  object.  Nor  does  experience 
itself  afford  a  complete  solution  of  the  problem;  for,  as 
we  are  irresistibly  led  by  our  perceptions  to  ascribe  to 
their  objects  a  future  as  well  as  a  present  reality,  the 
question  still  remains,  how  are  we  determined  by  the  ex- 
perience of  the  past  J  to  carry  our  inference  forward  to  a 
portion  of  time  which  is  yet  to  come?  To  myself  the  dif- 
ficulty appears  to  resolve  itself,  in  the  simplest  and  most 
philosophical  manner,  into  that  law  of  our  constitution  to 
which  Turgot,  long  ago,  attempted  to  trace  it. 

If  this  conclusion  be  admitted,  our  conviction  of  the 
permanent  and  independent  existence  of  matter  is  but  a 
particular  case  of  a  more  general  law  of  belief  extending 
to  all  other  phenomena.  The  generalization  seems  to  me 
to  be  equally  ingenious  and  just;  and  while  it  coincides 
perfectly  in  its  spirit  and  tendency  with  Reid's  doctrine 
on  the  same  point,  to  render  that  doctrine  at  once  more 
precise  and  more  luminous. 

*  Philosophy  of  the  Human  Mind,  chap,  iif 


128  ON  THE  roEALISM  OF  BERKELEY.  ["Essay  II. 

Nor  is  this  view  of  the  subject  altogether  a  novelty  in 
the  history  of  science;  any  farther,  than  as  it  aims  at  a 
simple  and  literal  statement  of  the  fact,  without  prejudg- 
ing any  of  the  other  questions,  either  physical  or  meta- 
physical, which  may  arise  out  of  it.  The  same  doctrine 
is  obviously  involved  in  the  physical  theory  of  Boscovich, 
as  well  as  in  some  of  the  metaphysical  reveries  of  Male- 
branche  and  of  Leibnitz.  The  last  of  these  writers  has, 
indeed,  expressed  it  very  clearly  and  concisely  in  one  of 
his  letters,  where  he  observes  to  his  correspondent:  "  Les 
"  choses  materielles  en  elles-meme  ne  sont  que  des  phe- 
"  nomenes  bien  regies."*  The  creed,  said  to  be  so  pre- 
valent among  the  Hindoos,  with  respect  to  the  nature  of 
matter,  would  seem  to  be  grafted  on  a  conception  nearly 
similar.  If  we  may  rely  on  the  account  given  of  it  by  Sir 
William  Jones,  it  has  not  the  most  distant  affinity,  in  its 
origin  or  tendency,  to  the  system  of  idealism  as  it  is  now 
commonly  understood  in  this  part  of  the  world;  the  for- 
mer taking  its  rise  from  a  high  theological  speculation;  the  \ 
latter  being  deduced  as  a  sceptical  consequence  from  a 
particular  hypothesis  concerning  the  origin  of  our  know- 
ledge, inculcated  by  the  schoolmen,  and  adopted  by  Locke 
and  his  followers.  "  The  difficulties"  (Sir  William  tells 
us,  with  great  clearness  and  precision)  "  attending  the 

*  The  same  ^locle  of  speaking;  has  been  adopted  by  some  more 
modern  authors;  among  others,  by  the  late  very  ingenious  and  learn- 
ed Mr.  Robison,  in  his  Elements  of  Mechanical  Philosophy,  "  To 
us,"  (he  observes)  *^  7natter  is  a  7}icre  /ihenomenofi.^'  (§  118.)  Leib- 
nitz was,  I  think,  the.  first  person  by  whom  it  was  introduced;  but 
in  the  writings  of  Mr.  Robison,  wherever  it  occurs,  it  may  be  safely 
interpreted  as  referring  to  the  physical  theory  of  Boscovich,  to  which 
he  had  a  strong  and  avowed  leaning;  although  he  was  not  blind  to 
the  various  difficulties  connected  with  it. 


Chap.  IL]  ON  THE  IDEALISM  OF  BERKELEY.  129 

"  vulgar  notion  of  material  substances,  induced  many  of 
"the  wisest  among-  the  ancients,  and  some  of  the  most 
"  enHghtened  among  the  moderns,  as  well  as  the  Hindoo 
"  philosophers,  to  believe  that  the  whole  creation  was 
*'  rather  an  energy  than  a  work,  by  which  the  infinite  mind, 
"  who  is  present  at  all  times,  and  in  all  places,  exhibits  to 
"  his  creatures  a  set  of  perceptions  like  a  wonderful  pic- 
"  ture,  or  piece  of  music,  always  varied,  yet  always  uni- 
"  form."* 

In  another  passage,  the  same  author  observes,  that  "  the 
"  Vedantis,  unable  to  form  a  distinct  idea  of  brute  matter 
'*  independent  of  mind,  or  to  conceive  that  the  work  of 
*'  supreme  goodness  was  left  a  moment  to  itself,  imagine 
"  that  the  Deity  is  ever  present  to  his  work,  and  constantly 
"  supports  a  series  of  perceptions,  which  in  one  sense 
"  they  call  illusory,  though  they  cannot  but  admit  the  re- 
"  ality  of  all  created  forms,  as  far  as  the  happiness  of 
^^  creatures  can  be  affected  by  them.^^-f 

"  The  word  may  a,"  (we  are  afterwards  informed)  "  or 
"  delusion  has  a  subtle  and  recondite  sense  in  the  Fedanta 
"  philosophy,  where  it  signifies  the  system  oi perceptions, 
"  whether  of  secondary,  or  of  primary  qualities,  which  the 
"  Deity  was  believed,  by  Epicharmus,  Plato,  and  many 
"  truly  pious  men,  to  raise,  by  his  omnipresent  spirit, 
"  in  the  minds  of  his  creatures;  but  which  had  not,  in 
*'  their  opinion,  any  existence  independent  of  mind."J 

*  Introduction  to  a  translation  of  some  Hindoo  verses. 

t  Dissertation  on  the  God?  of  Greece,  Italy,  and  India. 

\  Ibid.  The  last  clause  of  this  sentence  is  somewhat  ambiguous; 
as  it  is  not  quite  manifest,  whether  the  author  meant  an  existence 
independent  of  the  supreme  mind,  or  of  the  minds  of  created  perci- 
Jiient  beings,  Neithei:  the  one  opinion  nor  the  other  appears  to  me 

R 


130  OK  THE  If«:ALISM  OF  BERKELEY.  [Essay  U. 

The  essential  difference  between  these  doctrines,  and 
those  which  Hume  has  shown  to  be  necessarily  in- 
volved in  the  common  account  oi  the  origin  of  our  know- 
ledge^ must  appear  obvious  to  all  who  have  any  acquain- 
tance with  his  writings.  The  Hindoo  system  represents 
the  material  universe,  as,  at  all  times,  in  a  state  of  imme- 
diate dependence  on  the  divine  energy; — coinciding,  in 
Uiis  respect,  with  the  opinions  of  those  pious  men  in  our 
own  quarter  of  the  globe,  who  have  supposed  its  con- 
tinued existence  to  be  the  eft'ect  of  a  creative  act  renewed 
every  moment;  but  admitting,  in  the  most  explicit  terms, 
the  regularity  of  the  laws  according  to  which  its  pheno- 
mena are  exhibited  to  our  senses,  and  the  reality  of  these 
phenomena  as  permanent  objects  of  science.  The  scepti- 
cism of  Hume,  on  the  contrary,  proceeds  entirely  on  a 
scholastic  hypothesis  concerning  perception,  which,  when 
followed  out  to  its  logical  consequences,  leaves  no  evi- 
dence for  the  existence,  either  of  the  divine  mind,  or  of 
any  other;  nor,  indeed,  for  that  of  any  thing  whatever, 
but  of  our  own  impressions  and  ideas. 

The  fault  of  the  Hindoo  philosophy,  as  well  as  of  the 
systems  of  Leibnitz  and  of  Malebranche,  is,  that  it  pro- 
nounces dogmatically  on  a  mystery  placed  beyond  the 
reach  of  our  faculties;  professing  to  describe  the  mode  in 
which  the  intellectual  and  material  worlds  are  connected 
together,  and  to  solve  the  inexplicable  problem  (as  Bacon 
has  justly  called  it)  with  respect  to  the  opus  quod  operatur 
Deus  a  principio  usque  ad  jinem.  In  the  present  state  of 
our  knowledge,  it  is  equally  absurd  to  reason  for  it  or 

to  be  reconcileable  with  the  doctrines,  either  of  Epicharmus  or  of 
Plato.  (Vide  Bruckeri  Hist,  de  Ideis,  p.  9.  Augustae  Vindelicorum, 

1723.) 


Chap.  II.]  ON  THE  IDEALISM  OF  BERKELEY.  131 

against  it;  but  thus  much  must  be  allowed  in  its  favour, 
that  while,  in  its  moral  tendenc}^  it  is  diametrically  oppo- 
site to  that  of  the  theory  with  which  it  has  sometimes  been 
classed,  it  explicitly  recognizes  the  consistency  and 
certainty  of  those  principles  of  belief  on  which  mankind 
proceed  in  the  ordinary  business  of  life,  as  well  as  in  all 
their  physical  inquiries  concerning  the  order  of  nature. 

The  statement,  on  the  other  hand,  given  by  Turgot, 
possesses  this  advantage  peculiar  to  itself,  that  it  de- 
scribes the  simple  fact  with  scientific  precision;  involv- 
ing no  metaphysical  theory  whatever,  any  more  than 
Newton's  statement  of  the  law  of  gravitation.  In  both 
cases,  premises  are  furnished  for  a  most  important  con 
elusion  in  natural  theology;  but  that  conclusion  is  as  for- 
eign to  our  researches  concerning  the  physical  laws  of  our 
perceptions,  as  it  would  have  been  to  Newton's  purpose, 
to  have  blended  it  with  the  physical  and  mathematical  in- 
quiries which  are  contained  in  his  Prindpia. 

Nor  let  any  one  imagine  that  this  statement  has  the 
slightest  tendency  to  detract  from  the  reality  of  external 
objects.  It  rests  our  evidence  for  this  realiti/^  on  the  very 
same  footing  with  what  we  possess  for  the  regularity  and 
permanence  of  those  physical  laws  which  furnish  the  most 
interesting,  as  well  as  most  stable  objects  of  human  know- 
ledge; and,  even  when  combined  with  the  theological 
hypothesis  of  the  Hindoos,  only  varies  our  ordinary  mode 
of  conception,  by  keeping  constantly  in  view  the  perpetual 
dependence  of  the  universe,  in  its  matter  as  well  as  in  its 
form^  on  the  hand  of  the  Creator. 

I  must  again  repeat,  with  respect  to  this  statement  of 
Turgot,  that  it  differs  from  that  of  Reid,  merely  in  resolv- 
ing our  belief  of  the  permanent  and  independent  existejice 


132  ON  THE  IDEALISM  OF  BERKELEY.  [Essay  U. 

of  matter  into  another  law  of  our  nature  still  more  gene- 
ral; and  of  this  law  it  is  worthy  of  obstrvatipn,  that  its 
authority  has  not  only  been  repeatedly  recognized  by  Rtid, 
but  that  he  has  laid  much  more  stress  on  its  importance 
than  an}'  preceding  writer.  According  to  the  statements 
of  both,  this  belief  is  assumed  as  an  ultimate  fact  in  the 
constitution  of  the  mind;  and  the  trifling  difference  in  their 
language  concerning  it,  (considering  that  neither  could 
have  borrowed  the  slightest  hint  from  the  other)  adds  no 
inconsiderable  weight  to  their  joint  conclusions. 

To  this  natural  belief,  common  to  all  mankind  (a  belief 
which  evidently  is  altogether  independent  of  any  exercise 
of  our  reasoning  powers),  Reid,  as  well  as  some  other 
Scottish  philosophers,  have  applied  the  epithet  ijistinctive; 
not  with  the  view  of  conveying  an}'  new  theory  concern- 
ing its  origin,  but  merely  to  exclude  the  unsatisfactory 
theories  of  their  predecessors.  For  this  supposed  innova- 
tion in  language,  they  have  been  severely  censured  and  ri- 
diculed by  a  late  celebrated  Polemic;  but  the  strictures 
which,  in  this  instance,  he  has  bestowed  on  them,  will  be 
found  to  apply  to  them,  in  common  with  the  most  cor- 
rect reasoners  in  every  part  of  modern  Europe.  Of  this  I 
have  already  produced  one  instance,  in  a  quotation  from 
the  works  of  a  very  learned  and  profound  Italian;*  and 
another  authority  to  the  same  purpose  is  furnished  by 
D'Alembert,  a  writer  scrupulously  cautious  in  his  selec- 
tion of  words.  The  following  passage  agrees  so  exactly 
with  Rtid's  philosophy,  in  point  of  doctrine  as  well  as  of 
phraseology,  that  the  coincidence  can  be  accounted  for 
only  by  the  anxious  fidelity  with  which  both  authors  have, 
on  this  occasion,.exemplified  the  precepts  of  the  inductive 

logic. 

*  See  p.  1 15  of  this  volume. 


Chap.  IT.  J  ON  THE  IDEALISM  OF  BERKELEY.  133 

"  The  truth  is,  that  as  no  relation  whatever  can  be  dis- 
"  covered  between  a  sensation  in  the  mind,  and  the  ob- 
*' ject  by  which  it  is  occasioned,  or  at  least  to  which  we 
*'  refer  it,  it  does  not  appear  possible  to  trace,  by  dint  of 
"  reasoning,  any  practicable  passage  from  the  one  to  the 
"  other.  Nothing  but  a  species  of  instinct y  more  sure  in 
"  its  operation  than  reason  itself,  could  so  forcibly  trans- 
*'  port  us  across  the  gulf  by  which  mind  seems  to  be  sepa- 
"  rated  from  the  material  world."* 

*'  In  every  science"  (the  same  author  elsewhere  ob- 
serves) "  there  are  principles  true,  or  supposed,  which  the 
"  mind  seizes  by  a  species  of  instinct.  To  this  instinct 
"  we  ought  to  yield  without  resistance;  otherwise,  by  re- 
"  cognizing  the  existence  of  a  series  of  principles  with- 
"  out  end,  and  abandoning  the  possibility  of  any  fixed 
"  points  for  the  commencement  of  our  reasonings,  we 
•'  must  plunge  ourselves  into  universal  scepticism. "f 

*  En  effet,  n'y  ayant  aucun  rapport  entre  chaque  sensation,  et  I'ob- 
jet  qui  I'occasionne,  ou  du  moins  auquel  nous  la  rapportons,  il  ne 
paroit  pas  qu'on  puisse  trouver  par  le  raisonnement  de  passage  pos- 
sible de  I'un  a  I'autre^  il  n'y  a  qu'une  espece  d'instinct,  plus  sur  que 
la  liiison  meme,  qui  puisse  nous  forcer  a  franchir  un  si  grand  inter- 
valle. — (^Dinc ours  fir eliminaire  de  I* Encyclofiedie.^ 

In  the  last  clause  of  the  sentence,  I  have  departed  a  little  from  the 
words  of  the  original;  but  I  flatter  myself,  that  1  -have  rendered  my 
author's  meaning  with  sufficient  exactness. 

t  II  est  dans  chaque  science  des  principes  vrais  ou  supposes,  qu'on 
saisit  par  une  espece  d'instinct  auquel  on  doit  s'abandonner  sans  re- 
sistance; autrement  il  faudroit  admettre  dans  les  principes  un  pro- 
gres  a  I'infini  qui  seroit  aussi  absurde  qu'un  progres  .a  I'infini  dans 
les  etres  et  dans  les  causes,  et  qui  rendroit  tout  incertain,  faute  d'un 
point  fixe  d'ou  I'on  put  partir..— (ii/<?7nen«  de  Philosophies  Art.  Me- 
taphysique.) 

In  the  alternative  stated  in  the  first  clause  of  this  sentence,  {des 
jirincifies  vrais  ou  sufifioses)  I  presume  that  D'Alenibert  had  in  view 
the  distinction  between  those  sciences  which  rest  ultimately  on  facts; 


134  ON  THE  IDEALISM  OF  BERKELEY.  [Essay  II. 

The  inference  which  I  draw  from  these  quotations  is, 
not  that  the  word  instinct  is  employed  in  them  with  un- 
exceptionable propriety,  but  that,  in  applying  it  to  charac- 
terize certain  Judgments  of  the  mind,  the  philosophers 
who  have  been  so  contemptuously  treated  on  that  account 
by  Dr.  Priestley,  have  not  departed  from  the  practice  of 
their  predecessors.  They  alone  who  have  studied  with 
care  the  science  of  human  nature,  can  be  fully  sensible 
how  difficult  it  is,  on  the  one  hand,  for  the  clearest  and 
most  cautious  thinkers,  to  describe  its  phenomena  in  de- 
finite and  unequivocal  terms;  and  how  easy  it  is,  on  the 
other,  for  the  most  superficial  critic  to  cavil,  with  plausi- 
bility, at  the  best  phraseology  which  language  can  aflbrd. 
Nor  has  a  philosopher,  in  this  branch  of  knowledge,  the 
privilege,  as  in  some  others,  of  introducing  new  terms  of 
his  own  invention,  without  incurring  the  charge  of  absurd 
and  mysterious  affectation.  He  must,  of  necessity,  perse- 
vere in  employing  terms  of  a  popular  origin;  or,  in  other 
words,  in  employing  an  instrument  made  by  the  most  rude 
and  unskilful  hands,  to  a  purpose  where  the  utmost  con- 
ceivable nicety  is  indispensably  requisite. 

The  number  of  such  criticisms,  I  am  inclined  to  sus- 
pect, would  be  considerably  diminished,  if  every  cavil  at 
an  obnoxious  word  were  to  be  accompanied  with  the  sug- 
gestion of  a  less  exceptionable  substitute.  In  the  mean 
time,  it  is  the  fault  of  those  who  devote  themselves 
to  this  study,  if  they  do  not  profit  by  these  criticisms 
where  they  have  the  slightest  foundation  in  justice,  by  ap- 
proximating more  and  more  to  that  correctness  and  uni- 
formity in  the  use  of  language,  towards  which  so  great 

and  the  different  branches  of  pure  mathematics  which  rest  ultimately 
on  dffinition'i,  or  /lu/iot/ietses. 


Chap.  II.]  ON  THE  IDEALISM  OF  BERKELEY.  135 

advances  have  been  made  in  our  own  times;  but  which, 
after  all  our  efforts,  we  must  content  ourselves  with  re- 
commending to  the  persevering  industry  of  our  succes- 
sors, as  the  most  essential  of  all  desiderata  for  insuring  the 
success  of  their  researches.  Till  thib  great  end  be,  in  some 
measure,  accomplished,  we  must  limit  our  ambition  to 
the  approbation  of  the  discerning  few;  recollecting,  (if  I 
may  borrow  the  words  of  Mr.  Burke,)  that  our  conclu- 
sions are  not  fitted  "  to  abide  the  test  of  a  captious  con- 
"  troversy,  but  of  a  sober  and  even  forgiving  examination; 
"  that  they  are  not  armed,  at  all  points,  for  battle,  but 
"  dressed  to  visit  those  who  are  willing  to  give  a  peaceful 
*'  entrance  to  truth."* 

*  See  Note  (I). 


136  ON  THE  IDEALISM  OP  BERKELEY.  [Essay  II 


SECTION  SECOND. 

Continuation  of  the  subject.— Indistii)ctness  of  the  line  drawn  byReid,  as  well 
as  by  Des  Cartes  and  Locke,  between  the  primary  and  the  secondary  qualities 
of  matter^^Distinction  betwet^n]  the  primary  qualities  of  matter,  and  its 

mathematical  aiiections. 

(.■;  i..'..r!i|,,.  ■,,,.; 

1  HAVE  yet  another  criticism  to  offer  on  Dr.  Reid's  rea- 
sonings with  respect  io perception; — a  criticism  nOt  found- 
ed upon  any  flaw  in  his  argument,  but  upon  his  inatten- 
tion, in  enumerating  the  primdjy  qualities  of  matter,  to  a 
very  essential  distinction  among  the  particulars  compre- 
hended in  his  list;  by  stating  which  distinction,  he  might, 
in  my  opinion,  have  rendered  his  conclusions  much  more 
clear  and  satisfactory. 

Into  this  oversight,  Dr.  Reid  was  very  naturally  led  by 
the  common  arrangement  of  his  immediate  predecessors; 
most  of  whom,  since  the  time  of  Locke,  have  classed  to- 
gether, under  the  general  tide  oi  primary  qualities,  hard- 
ness, softness,  roughness,  smoothness,  &c.  with  extension^ 
figure^  and  motion.*  In  this  classification  he  has  invaria- 
bly followed  them,  both  in  his  inquiry  into  the  human 
Mind,  and  in  his  Essays  on  the  Intellectual  Powers;  a 
circumstance  the  more  remaikable,thathe  has  incidentally- 
stated,  in  different  parts  of  his  works,  some  very  important 
considerations,  which  seem  lo  point  out  obviously  the 
necessity  of  a  more  strictly  logical  arrangement. 

*  According  to  Locke,  the  primary  qualities  of  matter  are  solidity, 
extensioi),  figure,  motion,  or  rest,  and  number. — (Book  ii.  chup.  viii, 
§  9.) — In  tlie  Theory  of  Berkeley,  the  word  .solidity  is  employed  as 
synonymous  with  hardrifss  dcnCi  resistance.  (Berkeley's  Works,  p,  133. 
Vol.  1.  Dublin  edirion  of  1784.)  Following  these  t;uides,  Reid  has 
been  let!  to  con;pvcheiid,  in  l-is  ciiui'-eratif)?!  (very  inadvertently  in 
my  opinion)  the  heterogeneous  qualities  specified  in  the  text. 

2 


Gbap.11.3  ON  THE  IDEALISM  OF  BERKELEY.  137 

After  observing,  on  one  occasion,  that  "  hardness  and 
*'  softness,  roughness  and  smoothness,  figure  and  motion, 
"■  do  all  suppose  extension,  and  cannot  be  conceived  w^ith- 
*'  out  it;"  he  adds,  that  "  he  thinks  it  must,  on  the  other 
"  hand,  be  allowed,  that  if  we  had  never  felt  any  thing 
*'  hard  or  soft,  rough  or  smooth,  figured  or  moved,  we 
"  should  never  have  had  a  conception  of  extension:  so 
"  that,  as  there  is  good  ground  to  believe  that  the  notion  of 
"  extension  could  not  be  prior  to  that  of  other  primary 
"  qualities;  so  it  is  certain  that  it  could  not  be  posterior 
*'  to  the  notion  of  any  of  them,  being  necessarily  implied 
"  in  them  all."* 

In  another  passage,  the  same  author  remarks,  that 
**  though  the  notion  of  space  seems  not  to  enter  at  first 
**  into  the  mind,  until  it  is  introduced  by  the  proper  ob- 
"  jects  of  sense;  yet,  being  once  introduced,  it  remains  in 
"  our  conception  and  belief,  though  the  objects  which 
"  introduced  it  be  removed.  We  see  no  absurdity  in 
"  supposing  a  body  to  be  annihilated;  but  the  space  that 
**  contained  it  remains;  and  to  suppose  that  annihilated, 
'''  seems  to  be  absurd."! 

Among  the  various  inconveniences  restalting  from  this 
indistinct  enumeration  of  primary  qualities^  one  of  the 
greatest  has  been,  the  plausibility  which  it  has  lent  to  the 
reasonings  of  Berkeley,  and  of  Hume,  against  the  exis- 
tence of  an  external  world.  Solidity  and  extension  being 
confounded  together  by  both,  under  one  common  deno- 
mination, it  seemed  to  be  a  fair  inference,  that  whatever 
can  be  shown  to  be  true  of  the  one,  must  hold  no  less 
when  applied  to  the  other.  That  their  conclusions,  even 
with  respect  to  solidity,  have  been  pushed  a  great  deal  too 

*  Inquiry,  chap.  v.  sect.  5. 

t  Essays  on  the  Int.  PoM-ers,  p.  262.  4to  edition. 

s 


138  ON  THE  IDEALISM  OF  BERKELEY.  [Essay  IL 

far,  I  have  already  endeavoured  to  show;  the  resistance 
opposed  to  our  compre-isiiig  force,  manifestly  implying 
the  existence  of  something  external^  and  altogether  inde- 
pendent of  our  perceptions: — but  still  there  is  a  wide  dif- 
ference between  the  notion  of  independent  existence,  and 
that  ascribed  to  extejision  or  space,  which,  as  Dr.  Reid 
observes,  carries  along  with  it  an  irresistible  conviction, 
that  its  existence  is  eternal  and  necessary;  equally  inca- 
pable of  being  created  or  annihilated.  The  same  remark 
may  be  applied  to  the  system  of  Dr.  Hutton,  who  plainly 
considered  extension  and  hardness  as  qualities  of  the 
same  order;  and  who,  in  consequence  of  this,  has  been 
led  to  blend  (without  any  advantage  whatever  to  the 
main  object  of  his  work)  the  metaphysics  of  Berkeley 
with  the  physics  of  Boscovich,  so  as  to  cast  an  additional 
obscurity  over  the  systems  of  both.  It  is  this  circum- 
stance that  will  be  found,  on  examination,  to  be  the  prin- 
cipal stumbling-block  in  the  Berkeleian  theory,  and  which 
distinguishes  it  from  that  of  the  Hindoos,  and  from  all 
others  commonly  classed  along  with  it  by  metaphysicians; 
that  it  involves  the  annihilation  of  space  as  an  external  ex- 
istence; thereby  unhinging  completely  the  natural  con- 
ceptions of  the  mind  with  respect  to  a  truth,  about  which, 
of  all  within  the  reach  of  our  faculties,  we  seem  to  be  the 
most  completely  ascertained;  and  which,  accordingly,  was 
selected  by  Newton  and  Clarke,  as  the  groundwork  of 
their  argument  for  the  necessary  existence  of  God.* 

*  This  species  of  sophistry,  founded  on  an  indistinctness  of  classi- 
fication, occurs  fic(juently  in  Berkeley's  writings.  It  is  thus  that, 
by  confounding  prinuay  and  secondary  qualities  under  one  common 
name,  lie  attempts  lo  extend  to  both,  the  conclusions  of  Des  Cartes 
and  Locke  with  respect  to  the  latter.  "  To  what  purpose  is  it"  (he 


Chap.  II.]  ON  THE  IDEALISM  OF  BERKELEY.  139 

I  am  always  unwilling  to  attempt  innovations  in  lan- 
guage; but  I  flatter  myself  it  will  not  be  considered  as  a  rash 
or  superfluous  one,  after  the  remarks  now  made,  if  I  dis- 
tinguish extension  and  figure  by  the  title  of  the  mathema- 
tical affections  of  matter;"^  restricting  the  phrase  primary 
qualities  to  hardness  and  softness,  roughness  and  smooth- 
ness, and  other  properties  of  the  same  description.  The 
line  which  I  would  draw  between  primary  and  secondary 
qualities  is  this;  that  the  former  necessarily  involve  the 
notion  of  extension,  and  consequently  of  externality  or 
out7iess;-\  whereas  the  latter  are  only  conceived  as  the  un- 
known causes  of  known  sensations;  and,  when  Jirst  ap- 

asks)  "  to  dilate  on  that  which  may  be  demonstrated  with  the  utmost 
"  evidence  in  a  line  or  two,  to  any  one  that  is  capable  of  the  least  re- 
"  flection?  It  is  but  looking  into  your  own  thoughts,  and  so  trying 
"  whether  you  can  conceive  it  possible  for  a  sound,  or  figure,  or 
"  motion,  or  colour,  to  exist  without  the  mind,  or  unperceived.  This 
"  easy  trial  may  make  you  see,  that  what  you  contend  for  is  a  down- 
"  right  contradiction.  Insomuch,  that  I  am  content  to  put  the  whole 
"  on  this  issue;  if  you  can  but  conceive  il  possible  for  one  extended 
^^  moveable  substance,  or,  in  general,  for  any  one  idea,  or  anij  thing 
"  like  an  idea,  to  exist  otherwise  than  in  a  mind  perceiving  it,  I  shall 
''  readily  give  up  the  cause."  (Principles  of  Human  Knowledge* 
section  xxii.) 

The  confusion  of  thought  which  runs  through  the  foregoing  pas- 
sage was  early  remarked  by  Baxter,  in  his  Inquiry  into  the  nature  of 
the  Human  Soul.  In  the  Jirst  sentence,  he  observes,  that  ^'■figure 
"  and  motion  are  nicely  shuffled  in  with  colour  and  sound,  though 
"  they  are  qualities  of  a  different  kind;"  and,  in  the  last,  that  "  eX' 
'*  tended  moveable  substance  is  supposed  to  be  a  species  of  idea;" — 
*'  in  which  case"  (he  adds)  "  Dr.  Berkeley  is  very  safe  in  his  argu- 
«  ment."   (Vol.  II.  p.  276.  3d  edit.) 

*  This  phrase  I  borrow  from  some  of  the  elementary  treatises  of 
natural  philosophy. 

t  The  word  outness,  which  has  been  of  late  revived  by  some  of 
Kant's  admirers  in  this  country,  was  long  ago  used  by  Berkeley  in 
his  Principles  of  Human  Knowledge,  (sect  xliii.);  and,  at  a  still  ear- 
lier period  of  his  life,  in  his  Essay  towards  a  new  theovv  of  Vision. 


140  ON  THE  IDEALISM  OF  UF-RKKLRY  [Essay  II. 

prehended  by  the  mind^  do  not  imply  the  existence  of  any 
thing  locally  distinct  from  the  subjects  of  its  own  consci- 
ousness. But  these  topics  I  must  content  myself  with 
merely  hinting  at,  on  the  present  occasion.* 

If  these  observations  be  well-founded,  they  establish 
three  very  important  facts  in  the  history  of  the  human 
mind.  1.  That  the  notion  of  the  mathematical  affections  of 
matter  presupposes  the  exercise  of  our  external  senses; 
inasmuch  as  it  is  suggested  to  us  by  the  same  sensations 
which  convey  to  us  the  knowledge  of  \i'r, primary  qualities. 

2.  That  this  notion  involves  an  irresistible  conviction,  on 
our  part,  not  only  of  the  external  existence  of  its  objects, 
but  of  their  necessary  and  eternal  existence;  whereas,  in  the 
case  of  the  primary  qualities  of  matter,  our  perceptions  are 
only  accompanied  with  a  belief,  that  these  qualities  exist 
externally,  and  independently  of  our  existence  as  perci- 
pient beings;  the  supposition  of  their  annihilation  by  the 
power  of  the  Creator,  implying  no  absurdity  whatsoever, 

3.  That  our  conviction  of  the  necessary  existence  of  ex- 
tension, or  space,  is  neither  the  result  of  reasoning  nor  of 
experience,  but  is  inseparable  from  the  very  conception 
of  it;  and  must  therefore  be  considered  as  an  ultimate  and 
essential  law  of  human  thought. 

The  very  same  conclusion,  it  is  manifest,  applies  to  the 
notion  of  time;  a  notion  which,  like  that  of  space,  presup- 

(sect.  xlvi.)  I  mention  this,  as  I  have  more  than  once  heard  the  term 
spoken  of  as  a  fortunate  innovation. 

*  For  Locke's  distinction  between  ])rimary  and  secondary  quali- 
ties, see  his  Essay,  Book  ii.  chap.  iii.  §  0.  Of  its  logical  accuracy 
son»e  judgment  may  be  formed  fi'om  its  influence  in  leading  so  very 
acule  an  inquirer  to  class  n:i?nber  in  the  same  list  with  aolidity  and 
e.rttniiion.  The  reader  will  find  some  additional  illustrations  on  the 
subject  of  secondary  qualities  in  note  (K). 


Chap.  II.  1  ON  THE  IDEAUSM  OF  BERKELEY.  141 

poses  the  exercise  of  our  external  senses;  but  which,  wheft 
it  is  once  acquired,  presents  irresistibly  its  object  to  our 
thoughts  as  an  existence  equally  independent  of  the  hu- 
man mind,  and  of  the  material  universe.  Both  these  exis- 
tences, too,  swell  in  the  human  understanding  to  infinity; 
the  one  to  immensity,  the  other  to  eternity;  nor  is  it  pos- 
.sible  for  imagination  itself  to  conceive  a  limit  to  either. 
How  are  these  facts  to  be  reconciled  with  that  philosophy 
which  teaches,  that  all  our  knowledge  is  derived  from  ex- 
perience? 

The  foregoing  reasonings  have  led  us,  by  a  very  short, 
and,  I  hope,  satisfactory  process,/  to  the  general  conclu- 
sion which  forms  the  fundamental  principle  of  the  Kan- 
tian system;  a  system  plainly  suggested  Jo  the  author,  by 
the  impossibility  he  found  of  tracing  any  resemblance  be- 
tween extension  and  the  sensations  of  which  we  are  con- 
scious. "  The  notion  (or  intuition)  oi space''''  (he  tells  us) 
"  as  well  as  that  o{  ti?ne^  is  not  empirical;  that  is,  it  has 
"  not  its  origin  in  experience.  On  the  contrary,  both 
"  these  notions  are  supposed,  or  implied,  as  conditio7is  in 
*'  all  our  empirical  perceptions;  inasmuch  as  we  cannot 
"  perceive  nor  conceive  an  external  object,  without  re- 
"  presenting  it  to  our  thoughts  as  in  space;  nor  can  we 
"  conceive  any  thing,  either  without  us  or  within  us, 
"  without  representing  it  to  ourselves,  as  in  time.  Space 
"  and  time,  therefore,  are  called,  by  Kant,  the  two  Jbrms 
"  of  our  sensibility.  The  first  is  the  general  form  of  our 
"  external  senses:  the  second,  the  general  form  of  all  our 
"  senses,  external  and  internal. 

"  These  notions  of  space  and  of  time,  however,  al- 
"  though  they  exist  in  us  a  priori^  are  not"  (according 
to  Kant)  "  innate  ideas.    If  they  are  anterior  to  the  per- 


142  ON  THE  IDEALISM  OF  BERKELEY.  [Essay  II. 

"  ceptions  of  our  senses,  it  is  only  in  the  order  of  reason, 
*'  and  not  in  the  order  of  time.  They  have  indeed  their 
"  origin  in  ourselves;  but  they  present  themselves  to  the 
*  understanding  only  in  consequence  of  occasions  furnish- 
"  ed  by  our  sensations;  or  (in  Kant's  language)  by  our 
"  sensible  modifications.  Separated  from  these  modifica- 
"  tions,  they  could  not  exist;  and,  without  them,  they 
"  would  have  remained  for  ever  latent  and  sterile."* 

*  De  Gerando.  Hist,  des  Systemes,  Tom.  II.  p.  208,  209.  It  is 
proper  fur  me  to  observe  here,  that,  for  the  little  I  know  of  Kant's 
philosophy,  I  am  chiefly  indebted  to  his  critics  and  commentators; 
more  particularly,  to  M.  De  Gerando,  who  is  allowed,  even  by  Kant's 
countrj'men,  to  have  given  a  faithful  exposition  of  his  doctrines;  and 
to  the  author  of  a  book  published  at  Copenhagen,  in  1796,  entitled, 
Philosojihite  Criticx  Secundum  Kantium  Exfiositio  Syatefnalica.  Some 
very  valuable  strictures  on  the  general  spirit  of  his  system  may  be 
collected  from  the  appendix  subjoined  by  Mr.  Prevost  to  his  F'rench 
translation  of  Mr.  Smith's  posthumous  Essays;  from  different  pas- 
sages of  the  Essais  P/iilo&o/i/iigues  of  the  same  author;  and  from  the 
first  article  in  the  second  number  of  the  Edinburgh  Review. 

As  to  Kant's  own  works,  I  must  fairly  acknowledge,  that,  although 
I  have  frequently  attempted  to  read  them  in  the  Latin  edition  printed 
at  Leipsic,  I  have  always  been  forced  to  abandon  the  undertaking  in 
despair;  partly  from  the  scholastic  barbarism  of  the  style,  and  partly 
from  my  utter  inability  to  unriddle  the  author's  meaning.  Wherever 
I  have  happened  to  obtain  a  momentary  glimpse  of  light,  I  have  de- 
rived it,  not  from  Kant  himself,  but  from  my  previous  acquaintance 
with  those  opinions  of  Leibnitz,  Berkeley,  Hume,  Reid,  and  others, 
which  he  has  endeavoured  to  appropriate  to  himself  under  the  deep 
disguise  of  his  new  phraseology.  No  writer  certainly  ever  exempli- 
fied more  systematically,  or  more  successfully,  the  pr-ccpt  which 
Quinctilian  (upon  the  authority  of  Livy)  ascribes  to  an  ancient  rheto- 
rician; and  which,  if  the  object  of  the  teacher  was  merely  to  instruct 
his  pupils  how  to  command  the  admiration  of  the  multitude,  must 
be  allowed  to  reflect  no  small  honour  on  his  knowledge  of  human 
nature.  "  Necjue  id  novum  vitium  est,  cum  jam  apud  Titum  Livium 
"  inveniam  fuisse  praeceptorem  aliquem,  qui  discipulos  obscurare 
*'  quae  dicerent,  jubcrent,  Graeco  verbo  utens  o-x«T<(ro».  Unde  ilia  sci- 
*'  licet  egregia   laudatio:     Tanfo    melior,   7ic  ei^o    tjuide??i  intellcxi" 

(Quinct.  Instit.) 

En 


Chap.  11]  ON  THE  IDEALISM  OF  BERKELEY.  143 

The  only  important  proposition  which  I  am  able  to  ex- 
tract from  this  jargon  is,  that,  as  extension  and  duration 
cannot  be  supposed  to  bear  the  most  distant  resemblance 
to  any  sensations  of  which  the  mind  is  conscious,  the  ori- 
gin of  these  notions  forms  a  manifest  exception  to  the  ac- 
count given  by  Locke  of  the  primary  sources  of  our 
knowledge.  This  is  precisely  the  ground  on  which  Reid 
has  made  his  stand  against  the  scheme  of  Idealism;  and 
I  leave  it  to  my  readers  to  judge,  whether  it  was  not 
more  philosophical  to  state,  as  he  has  done,  the  Jact,  in 
simple  and  perspicuous  terms,  as  a  demonstration  of  the 
imperfection  of  Locke's  theory,  than  to  have  reared  upon 
it  a  superstructure  of  technical  mystery,  similar  to  what 
is  exhibited  in  the  system  of  the  German  metaphysician. 

Injustice,  at  the  same  time,  to  Kant's  merits,  I  must 
repeat,  that  Dr.  Reid  would  have  improved  greatly  the 
statement  of  his  argument  against  Berkeley,  if  he  had 
kept  as  constantly  in  the  view  of  his  readers,  as  Kant  has 
done,  the  essential  distinction  which  I  have  endeavoured 
to  point  out  between  the  mathematical  affections  of  mat- 
ter, and  its  primary  qualities.  Of  this  distinction  he  ap- 
pears to  have  been  fully  aware  himself,  from  a  passage 
which  I  formerly  quoted;  but  he  has,  in  general,  slurred 
it  over  in  a  manner  which  seemed  to  imply,  that  he  con- 
sidered them  both  as  precisely  of  the  same  kind. 

I  shall  only  add  farther,  that  the  idea  or  conception  of 
motion  involves  the  ideas  both  of  extensioTi  and  of  time. 

En  ecrivant,  j'ai  toiijours  tache  ds  ?n'entendre,  is  an  expression 
■which  Fontenelle  somewhere  uses,  in  speaking  of  his  own  literary 
habits.  It  conveys  a  hint  not  unworthy  of  the  attention  of  authors; 
— but  which  I  would  not  venture  to  I'ecommend  to  that  class  who 
may  aspire  to  the  glory  of  foimding  new  schools  of  philosophy. 


144  ON  THE  IDEALISM  OF  BERKELEY.  [Essay  11. 

That  the  idea  of  time  might  have  been  formed,  without 
any  ideas  either  of  exteiision  or  of  motion,  is  sufficiently 
obvious;  but  it  is  by  no  means  equally  clear,  whether  the 
idea  of  motion  presupposes  that  of  extension^  or  that  of 
extension  the  idea  of  motion.  The  question  relates  to  a 
fact  of  some  curiosity  in  the  natural  history  of  the  mind; 
having,  for  its  object,  to  ascertain,  with  logical  precision, 
the  occasion  on  which  the  idea  of  extension  is,  in  the  first 
instance,  acquired.  But  it  is  a  question  altogether  foreign 
to  the  subject  of  the  foregoing  discussion.  Whichever  of 
the  two  conclusions  we  may  adopt,  the  force  of  Reid's 
argument  against  Locke's  principle  will  be  found  to  re- 
main undiminished.* 

*  See  Note  (L). 


ESSAY  THIRD. 

ON  THE  INFLUENCE  OF  LOCKE'S  AUTHORITY  UPON 
THE  PHILOSOPHICAL  SYSTEMS  WHICH  PREVAILED 
IN  FRANCE  DURING  THE  LATTER  PART  OP  THE 
EIGHTEENTH   CENTURY. 

1  HE  account  given  by  Locke  of  the  origin  of  our  ideas, 
which  furnished  the  chief  subject  of  one  of  the  foregoing 
Essays,  has,  for  many  years  past,  been  adopted  implicitly, 
and  almost  universally,  as  a  fundamental  and  unquestion- 
able truth,  by  the  philosophers  of  France.  It  was  early 
sanctioned  in  that  country,  by  the  authority  of  Fontenelle, 
whose  mind  was  probably  prepared  for  its  reception,  by 
some  similar  discussions  in  the  works  of  Gassendi;  at  a 
later  period,  it  acquired  much  additional  celebrity,  from 
the  vague  and  exaggerated  encomiums  of  Voltaire;  and 
it  has  since  been  assumed,  as  the  common  basis  of  their 
respective  conclusions  concerning  the  history  of  the  hu- 
man understanding,  by  Condillac,  Turgot,  Helvetius,  Di- 
derot, D'Alembert,  Condorcet,  Destutt-Tracy,  De  Ge- 
rando,  and  many  other  writers  of  the  highest  reputation, 
at  complete  variance  with  each  other,  in  the  general  spirit 
of  their  philosophical  systems.* 

*  Tous  les  philosophes  Francois  de  ce  siecle  ont  fait  gloire  de  se 
ranger  au  notnbre  des  disciples  de  Locke,  et  d'admettre  ses  prin- 
cipes. — [De  Gerando,  de  la  Generation  des  Connoissances  Humaines^ 
p.  81. ^ 

T 


146  *  ON  THE  INFLUENCE  OF  LOCKE  UPON  [Essay  III. 

But  although  all  these  ingenious  men  have  laid  hold 
eagerly  of  this  common  principle  of  reasoning,  and  have 
vied  with  each  other  in  extolling  Locke  for  the  sagacity 
which  he  has  displayed  in  unfolding  it,  hardly  two  of  them 
can  be  named  who  have  understood  it  exactly  in  the  same 
sense;  and  perhaps  not  one  who  has  understood  it  precise- 
ly in  the  sense  annexed  to  it  by  the  author.  What  is  still 
more  remarkable,  the  praise  of  Locke  has  been  loudest 
from  those  who  seem  to  have  taken  the  least  pains  to  as- 
certain the  import  of  his  conclusions. 

The  mistakes  so  prevalent  among  the  French  philoso- 
phers on  this  fundamental  question,  may  be  accounted 
for,  in  a  great  measure,  by  the  implicit  confidence  which 
they  hav  reposed  in  Condillac,  (whom  a  late  author*  has 
distinguished  by  the  title  of  the  Father  of  Ideology),  as  a 
faithful  expounder  of  Locke's  doctrines;  and  by  the  weight 
which  Locke's  authority  has  thus  lent  to  the  glosses  and 
inferences  of  his  ingenious  disciple.  In  the  introduction 
to  Condillac's  Essay  on  the  Origin  of  Human  Knowledge, 
after  remarking,  that  "  a  philosopher  often  announces  the 
"  truth,  without  being  aware  of  it  himself;"  he  adds,  that 
"  it  seems  to  have  been,  by  some  accident  of  this  sort, 
*'  that  the  Peripatetics  were  led  to  assume,  as  a  principle, 
"  that  all  our  knowledge  comes  by  the  senses: — aprinci- 
"  pie  which  they  were  so  far  from  comprehending,  that 
"  none  of  them  was  able  to  unfold  it  in  detail;  and  which 
"  it  was  reserved  for  the  moderns  to  bring  to  light,  after 
"  a  long  succession  of  ages. " 

"  Bacon"  (the  same  author  continues)  "  was  perhaps 
*'  the  first  who  perceived  it;  having  made  it  the  ground- 

*  Dcstutt-Trucy. 


Essay  IH.]      THE  SYSTEMS  OF  FRENCH  PHILOSOPHERS.  147 

"work  of  a  treatise,  in  which  he  gives  excellent  precepts 
"  for  the  advancement  of  the  sciences.  The  Cartesians 
"  rejected  it  with  contempt,  because  they  formed  their 
*'  judgment  of  it  only  upon  the  statement  given  by  the 
"  Peripatetics.  At  last,  Locke  laid  hold  of  it,  and  has  the 
*'  merit  of  being  the  first  by  whom  its  truth  was  demon- 
"strated." 

Of  the  meaning  which  Condillac  annexed  to  this  dis- 
covery of  Locke,,  a  sufficient  estimate  may  be  formed  from 
the  following  sentence:  "  According  to  the  system  which 
"  derives  all  our  knowledge  from  the  senses,  nothing  is 
**  more  easy  than  to  form  a  precise  notion  of  what  is  meant 
"  by  the  word  idea.  Our  ideas  are  only  sensations^  or  por- 
"  tions  abstracted b^ovn.  some  sensation,  in  order  to  be  con- 
"  sidered  apart.  Hence  two  sorts  of  ideas,  the  sensible,  and 
"  the  abstract.'*''^  On  other  occasions,  he  tells  us,  that 
*'  all  the  operations  of  the  understanding  arc  only  trans- 
'■''  formed  sensations ;\  and  that  the  faculty  o^  feeling  com- 
"  prehends  all  the  other  powers  of  the  mind."  I  must 
acknowledge,  for  my  own  part,  (with  a  very  profound 
writer  of  the  same  country)  "  that  these  figurative  ex- 
*'  pressions  do  not  present  to  me  any  clear  conceptions, 
"  but,  on  the  contrar}^  tend  to  involve  Locke's  principle 
"  in  much  additional  obscurity.  "| 

To  how  very  great  a  degree  this  vague  language  of 
Condillac  has  influenced  the  speculations  of  his  successors, 
will  appear  from  some  passages  which  I  am  now  to  pro- 

*  Traite  des  Systemes,  p.  68. 

t  Le  jugement,  la  reflexion,  les  desirs,  les  passions,  &c.  ne  sont 
que  la  sensation  meme  qui  se  transforme  diiferemment. — (Traite 
des  Sensations,  p.  4.) 

\  De  Gerando,  de  la  Generation  des  Connoissances  Humaines,  p 
78. 


148  ON  THE  INFLUENCE  OF  LOCKE  UPON  [Essay  Ilf. 

duce;  and  which,  in  my  opinion,  will  sufficiently  shew 
through  what  channel  the  French  philosophers  have, 
in  general^  acquired  their  information,  with  respect  to 
Locke's  doctrine  concerning  the  origin  of  our  ideas.* 

"  When  Aristotle"  (says  Helvetius) "  aflirmed,  nihil  est 
"  in  intellectu  quod  nonfuit  pritts  in  sensuy  he  certainly  did 
"  not  attach  to  this  maxim  the  same  meaning  with  Locke. 
"  In  the  Greek  philosopher,  it  was  nothing  more  than  the 

*  In  justice  to  some  i)ulividiials,  I  must  observe  here,  that  the 
vagueness  of  Condillac's  language,  in  this  instance,  has  been  re- 
marked by  several  of  his  own  countrymen.  "  Trompe  par  la  nou- 
"  veaute  d'une  expression  qui  paroit  avoir  pour  lui  un  charme  secret, 
*'  renfermant  toutes  les  operations  de  I'esprit  sous  le  titre  commun 
"  de  sc7isation  transformee^  Condillac  croit  avoir  rendre  aux  faits 
"  une  simplicite  qu'il  n'a  placee  que  dans  les  termes."  In  a  note  on 
this  passage,  the  same  author  adds,  "  Cette  observation  a  ete  faite 
"  par  M.  Prevost,  dans  les  notes  de  son  memoire  sur  les  signes;  par 
"  M.  Maine-Biran,  dans  son  Traite  de  I' Habitude^  Sec.  Cet  abus  des 
"  termes  est  si  sensible,  qu'on  s'etonne  de  I'avoir  vu  renouvele  de- 
"  puis,  par  des  ecrivains  tres-eclaires."  De  Gerando  Histoire  Com- 
paree,  &c.    Tome  I.  pp.  345,  316. 

The  work  of  M.  Maine-Biran  here  referred  to,  is  entitled,  "Influ- 
"  ence  de  I'Habitude  sur  la  faculte  de  penser.  Ouvrage  qui  a  rem- 
"  porte  le  prix  sur  cette  question  proposee  par  la  classe  des  sciences 
"  morales  et  politiqucs  de  I'lnstitut  National:  Dt'lerniiner  quelle  est 
"  Vinfluence  de  fhabitude  sur  la  faculte  de  penser;  ou,  en  d'autres 
"  termes,  /aire  voir  Cefftt  que  produit  sur  chacune  de  nos  facultes 
'"'  intelkctuellesy  lafrequente  repetition  des  memes  operations." 

Although  I  differ  from  this  author  in  many  of  his  views,  I  ac- 
knowledge, with  pleasure,  the  instruction  I  have  received  from  his 
ingenious  Essay. — For  his  criticism  on  Condillac's  Theory  of  Trans- 
formed Sensations^  see  pp.  51  and  52  of  the  Traite  dc  V Habitude. 

To  prevent  any  ambiguities  that  may  be  occasioned  by  the  general 
title  of  French  P/nlosofihcrs.,  it  is  necessary  for  mc  to  mention,  that 
I  use  it  in  its  most  restricted  sense;  without  comprehending  under 
it  the  writers  on  the  Human  Mind,  who  have  issued  from  the  school 
of  Geneva^  or  who  have  belonged  to  other  parts  of  Europe,  where 
the  French  language  is  commonly  employed  by  men  of  learning,  in 
their  publications. 


li^say  m.]      THE  SYSTEMS  OP  FRENCH  PHILOSOPHERS.  149 

"  glimpse  of  a  future  discovery,  the  honour  of  which  be- 
"  longs  to  the  Englishman  alone."* 

What  was  the  interpretation  annexed  by  Helvetiiis  him- 
self to  Locke's  doctrine  on  this  point,  appears  clearly  from 
the  corollary  which  he  deduced  from  it,  and  which  he  has 
employed  so  many  pages  in  illustrating;  "  that  every  thing 
"  in  man  resolves  ultimately  mto  sensation  or  the  operation 
"  of  feeling."  This,  therefore,  is  the  whole  amount  of  the 
discovery  which  Helvetiiis  considered  as  the  exclusive 
glory  of  Locke. 

"  It  is  to  Aristotle  we  owe"  (says  Cojidorcet)  "  that  im- 
"  portant  truth,  the  first  step  in  the  science  of  mind,  that 
"  our  ideas,  even  such  as  are  most  abstract,  most  strictly 
"  intellectual,  (so  to  speak)  have  their  origin  in  our  sen- 
"  sations.  But  this  truth  he  did  not  attempt  to  support 
"  by  any  demonstration.  It  was  rather  the  intuitive  per- 
"  ception  of  a  man  of  genius,  than  the  result  of  a  series 

*"  Lorsqu'  Aristote  a  dit,  nihil  est  iti  intellectu,  See,  il  n'attachoit 
"  certainement  pas  a  cette  axiome  les  meme  idees  que  M.  Locke. 
"  Cette  idee  n'etoit  tout  au  plus,  dans  le  philosophe  Grec,  que  I'ap- 
"  percevance  d'une  decouverte  a  faire,  et  dont  I'honneur  appartient 
"  en  entier  au  philosophe  Anglois."  (De  I'Esprit,  disc,  iv.) 

It  is  observed  by  Dr.  Gillies,  in  his  very  valuable  Analysis  of  Aris- 
totle's Works,  that  "  he  nowhere  finds,  in  that  author,  the  words 
"  univej-sally  ascribed  to  him^  nihil  est  in  intellectu,"  &c.  He  quotes, 
at  the  same  time,  from  Aristotle,  the  following  maxim,  which  seems 
lo  convey  the  same  meaning,  almost  as  explicitly  as  it  is  possible  to 
do,  in  a  different  language:  it  roig  tt^i^i  Toig  xtf^njon  rx  venrtt  tcrTi 
(Gillies's  Arist.  2d  edition,  Vol.  I.  p.  47.)  I  must  remark  herC;  thai 
the  clause,  which  I  have  distinguished  by  italics,  in  the  above  quota- 
tion from  Dr.  Gillies,  is  somewhat  too  unqualified,  at  least  when  ap 
plied  to  the  writers  of  this  country.  Mr  Harris  (whose  Hermes  hap- 
pens now  to  be  lying  before  mc)  mentions  explicitly  the  phrase  in 
question,  as  a  noted  school  axiom.  (Harris's  Works,  Vol  I.  p.  419.) 
Nor  do  I  at  present  recollect  any  one  author  of  reputation  who  ha?, 
considered  it  in  a  different  light. 


150  ON  THE  INFLUENCE  OF  LOCKE  UPON         [Essay  III. 

"  of  observations  accurately  analysed,  and  systematically 
"  combined,  in  order  to  derive  from  them  some  general 
"conclusion.  Accordingly,  this  germ,  cast  in  anungrate- 
*'  ful  soil,  produced  no  fruit,  till  after  a  period  of  more. 
"  than  twenty  centuries.* 

"  At  length,  Locke  made  himself  master  of  the  proper 
"  clue.  He  shewed,  that  a  precise  and  accurate  analysis 
'*  of  ideas,  resolving  them  into  other  ideas,  earlier  in  their 
"  origin,  and  more  simple  in  their  composition,  was  the 
*'  only  means  to  avoid  being  lost  in  a  chaos  of  notions,  in- 
"  complete,  incoherent,  and  indeterminate;  destitute  of 
"  order,  because  suggested  by  accident;  and  admitted 
"  among  the  materials  of  our  knowledge  without  due 
"  examination. 

"  He  proved  by  this  analysis,  that  the  whole  circle  of 
*'  our  ideas  results  merely  from  the  operation  of  our  in- 
"  tellect  upon  the  sensations  we  have  received;  or  more 
"  accurately  speaking,  that  all  our  ideas  are  compounded  of 
"  sensations^  offering  themselves  simultaneously  to  the 
"  memory,  and  after  such  a  manner,  that  the  attention  is 
"  fixed,  and  the  perception  limited  to  a  particular  collec- 
"  tion,  or  portion  of  the  sensations  combined."! 

The  language,  in  this  extract,  is  so  extremely  vague 
and  loose,  that  I  should  have  been  puzzled  in  my  con- 
jectures about  its  exact  import,  had  it  not  been  for  one 
clause,  in  which  the  author  states,  with  an  affectation  of 
more  than  common  accuracy,  as  the  general  result  of 
Locke's  discussions,  this  short  and  simple  proposition, 

*  Outlines  of  Historic.  View,  &c.  Eng.  Trans,  pp.  107,  lOS. 

t  Ibid.  pp.  240,  and  241. — Not  having  the  original  in  my  posses- 
sion, I  have  transcribed  the  above  passage  very  nearly  from  the  Eng- 
lish Translation,  published  at  London  in  1795. 


Essay  III.]      THE  SYSTEMS  OF  FRENCH  PHILOSOPHERS.  151 

that  all  oiir  ideas  are  compounded  of  sensations.  The  clause 
immediately  preceding  these  words,  and  of  which  they 
are  introduced  as  an  explanation,  or  rather  as  an  amend- 
ment, certainly  seems,  at  first  sight,  to  have  been  intend- 
ed to  convey  a  meaning  very  different  from  this,  and  a 
meaning  not  liable,  in  my  opinion,  to  the  same  weighty 
objections.  But,  neither  the  one  interpretation  nor  the 
other,  can  possibly  be  reconciled  with  Locke's  doctrine, 
as  elucidated  by  himself  in  the  particular  arguments  to 
which  he  applies  it,  in  various  parts  of  his  Essay. 

I  shall  only  add  to  these  passages  a  short  quotation  from 
Diderot,  who  has  taken  more  pains  than  most  French 
writers,  to  explain,  in  a  manner  perfectly  distinct  and  un- 
equivocal, his  own  real  opinion  with  respect  to  the  origin 
and  the  extent  of  human  knowledge. 

"  Every  idea  must  necessarily,  when  brought  to  its  state 
*'  of  ultimate  decomposition,  resolve  itself  into  a  sensible 
"  representation,  or  picture;  and,  since  every  thing  in  our 
"  understanding  has  been  introduced  there  by  the  chan- 
"  nel  of  sensation,  whatever  proceeds  out  of  the  under- 
"  standing,  is  either  chimerical,  or  must  be  able,  in  return- 
"  ing  by  the  same  road,  to  re-attach  itself  to  its  sensible 
"  archetype.  Hence  an  important  rule  in  philosophy;  That 
"  every  expression  which  cannot  find  an  external  and  a 
"  sensible  object  to  which  it  can  thus  establish  its  affinity, 
*'is  destitute  of  signification."* 

*  Toute  idee  doit  se  resoudre  en  derniere  decomposition  en  une 
a<epresentation  sensible,  etpuisque  tout  ce  qui  est  dans  notre  entende- 
ment  est  venu  par  la  vole  de  notre  sensation,  tout  ce  qui  sort  de 
notre  enten  dement  est  chimerique,  ou  doit,  en  retournant  par  le 
meme  chemin,  trouver,  hors  de  nous,  un  objet  sensible  pour  s'y  ratta- 
cher.  De  la  une  grande  regie  en  philosophic,  c'est  que  toute  expression 


152  ON  Tin:  INFLUENCE  OF  LOCKE  UPON  [Essay  111. 

When  wc  compare  this  conchision  of  Diderot's  with 
the  innate  ideas  of  Des  Cartes,  the  transition  from  one 
extreme  to  the  other  seems  wonderful  indeed.  And  yet 
I  am  inclined  to  ascribe  to  the  late?iess  of  the  period  when 
Locke's  philosophy  became  prevalent  in  France,  the  ex- 
travagance of  the  length  to  which  his  doctrines  have  since 
been  pushed  by  some  French  writers.  The  implicit  faith 
which  was  so  long  attached  by  their  immediate  predeces- 
sors to  the  Cartesian  system,  naturally  prepared  the  way 
for  the  sudden  and  blind  admission  of  a  contrary  error: 
so  just  is  the  remark  of  a  candid  and  judicious  inquirer, 
that  "  the  first  step  from  a  complete  ignorance  of  a  phi- 
•'  losophical  principle,  is  a  disposition  to  carry  its  gene- 
"  ralization  beyond  all  reasonable  bounds."* 

qui  ne  trouve  pas  Aor*  de  nous  un  objet  sensible  auqucl  elle  puisse  sc 
rattacher,  est  vuide  de  sens. — {Oeuvres  de  Diderot,  Tom.  VI.) 

In  this  fihilosophical  rule,  Diderot  goes  much  farther  than  Mr. 
Hume,  in  consequence  of  the  different  interpretation  which  he  has 
given  to  Locke's  principle.  In  other  respects,  the  passage  now  quo- 
ted bears,  in  its  spirit,  a  striking  resemblance  to  the  reference  which 
Hume  Uas  made,  in  the  following  argument,  to  his  own  account  of 
the  origin  of  our  ideas,  as  furnishing  an  incontrovertible  canon  of 
sound  logic,  for  distinguishing  the  legitimate  objects  of  human  know- 
ledge, from  the  illusions  of  fancy  and  of  prejudice.  "  One  event  fol- 
"  lows  another;  but  Ave  never  can  observe  any  tie  between  them. 
"  They  seem  cofijoined,  but  never  co?inec(ed.  And,  as  we  can  have 
"  no  idea  of  any  thing  which  never  appeared  to  our  outward  sense, 
*'  or  inward  sentiment,  the  necessary  conclusion  see?ns  to  be,  that 
*'  we  have  no  idea  of  connexion,  or  power,  at  all;  and  that  these 
"  words  are  absolutely  without  any  meaning,  when  employed  either 
"  in  philosophical  reasonings  or  common  life." — (Of  the  Idea  of  Ne- 
cessary Connexion,  Part  ii.) 

*  Rien  n'est  plus  voisin  de  I'ignorancc  d'un  principe,  que  son  ex- 
cessive generalisation — (De  Gcraudo,  Introduct.  p.  xx.) 

To  this  maxim  I  would  beg  leave  to  subjoin  another,  that  "  no 
"  step  is  more  natural  or  common,  than  to  pass  all  at  once  from  an 
"  implicit  fuith  in  a  philosophical  dogma,  to  an  unqualified  rejection 

2 


Essay  III.]      THE  SYSTEMS  OF  FRENCH  PHILOSOPHERS.  153 

It  is  remarked  by  D'Alembert,  as  a  curious  circum- 
stance in  the  literary  character  of  his  countrymen,  that, 
though  singularly  fond  of  novelty  in  matters  of  taste,  they 
have  always  shewn  themselves,  in  the  pursuits  of  science, 
extremely  bigoted  to  old  opinions.  "  These  two  biasses," 
(he  adds)  "  apparently  so  strongly  contrasted  with  each 
"  other,  have  their  common  origin  in  various  causes,  and 
'  chiefly  in  that  passion  for  enjoyment,  which  seems  to 
"  be  the  characteristical  feature  in  our  minds.  Objects 
"  which  are  addressed  immediately  to  feeling  or  senti- 
"  ment,  cannot  continue  long  in  request,  for  they  cease  to 
"  be  agreeable,  when  the  effect  ceases  to  be  instantaneous. 
•'  The  ardour  beside,  with  which  we  abandon  ourselves 
"  to  the  pursuit  of  them,  is  soon  exhausted;  and  the  mind 
"  disgusted,  almost  as  soon  as  satisfied,  flies  to  something 
"  new,  which  it  will  quickly  abandon  for  a  similar  reason. 
"  The  understanding,  on  the  contrary,  is  furnished  with 
*'  knowledge,  only  in  consequence  of  patient  meditation; 
"  and  is  therefore  desirous  to  prolong,  as  much  as  possi- 
"  ble,  the  enjoyment  of  whatever  information  it  conceives 
*'  itself  to  have  acquired." 

In  illustration  of  this  remark,  he  mentions  the  obstinate 
adherence  of  the  French  philosophers  to  the  scholastic  doc- 
trines;  which  they  did  not  abandon  till  the  period  when 
the  succeeding  school,  which  first  triumphed  over  the  dog- 
mas of  Aristotle,  had,  in  several  of  the  other  countries  of 
Europe,  shared  the  fate  of  its  predecessor.  "  The  theory 
'*  of  the  Vortices"  (he  observes)  "  was  not  adopted  in 
"  France,  till  it  had  received  a  complete  refutation  by 

"  of  it,  with  all  the  truths,  as  well  as  eiTors,  which  it  embraces."— 
The  fault,  in  both  cases,  arises  from  a  weak  and  slavish  subjection 
of  the  judgment  to  the  authprity  of  others. 

u 


154  ON  THE  INFLUENCE  OF  LOCKE  UPON  [Essay  IIL 

"  Newton.  It  is  not  yet  thirty  years"  (he  adds)  "  since 
*'  we  began  to  renounce  the  system  of  Des  Cartes.  Mau- 
"  pertuis  was  the  first  person  who  had  the  courage 
"  openly  to  avow  himself  a  Newtonian."* 

As  a  farther  confirmation  of  D'Alembert's  observation, 
I  must  take  the  liberty  to  add,  (at  the  risk,  perhaps,  of 
incurring  the  charge  of  national  partiality)  that,  on  most 
questions  connected  with  the  philosophy  of  the  human 
mind,  his  countrymen  are,  at  least,  half  a  century  behind 
the  writers  of  this  island. f  While  Locke's  account  of  the 
origin  of  our  ideas  continued  to  be  the  general  creed  in 
Great  Britain,  it  was  almost  unknown  in  France;  and  now 
that,  after  long  discussion,  it  iDegins,  among  our  best  rea?; 
soners,  to  shrink  into  its  proper  dimensions,  it  is  pushed, 
in  that  country,  to  an  extreme,  which  hardly  any  British 
philosopher  of  the  smallest  note  ever  dreamed  of.  In  con- 
sequence of  the  writings  of  Reid,  and  of  a  few  others,  the 
word  idea  itself  is  universally  regarded  here,  even  by 
those  who  do  not  acquiesce  implicitly  in  Reid's  conclu- 
sions, as  at  the  best  a  suspicious  and  dangerous  term; 
and  it  has  already  nearly  lost  its  technical  or  Cartesian 
meaning,  by  being  identified  as  a  synonyme  with  the 
simpler  and  more  popular  word  notion.  Our  neighbours, 
in  the  mean  time,  have  made  choice  of  the  term  ideology^ 
(a  Greek  compound,  involving  the  very  word  we  have 

*  Melanges,  8cc.  torn.  I.  p.  149.  (Amsterdam  edition,  1770.)  This 
Discourse  was  first  published  in  1751. 

1 1  need  scarcely  add  that,  in  this  observation,  I  speak  of  the  gen- 
eral current  of  philosophical  opinion,  and  not  of  the  conclusions 
adopted  by  the  speculative  few  who  think  for  themselves.  On  many 
important  points,  every  candid  Englishman  who  studies  the  history 
of  this  branch  of  science,  will  own,  with  gratitude,  the  obligations  we 
owe  to  the  lights  struck  out  by  Condillac  and  his  successors. 


Essay  III.]      THE  SYSTEMS  OF  FRENCH  PHILOSOPHERS.  155 

been  attempting  to  discard)  to  express  that  department  of 
knowledge,  which  had  been  previously  called  the  science 
of  the  human  mind;  and  of  which  they  themselves  are 
always  reminding  us,  that  it  is  the  great  object  to  trace, 
in  the  way  of  induction,  the  intellectual  phenomena  to 
their  general  laws.  It  is  a  circumstance  somewhat  ludi- 
crous, that,  in  selecting  a  new  name  for  this  branch  of 
study,  an  appellation  should  have  been  pitched  upon, 
which  seems  to  take  for  granted,  in  its  etymological  im- 
port, the  truth  of  a  hypothesis,  which  has  not  only  been 
completely  exploded  for  more  than  fifty  years,  but  which 
has  been  shewn  to  be  the  prolific  parent  of  half  the  ab- 
surdities both  of  ancient  and  modern  metaphysicians.* 
» Among  the  French  philosophers  above  mentioned, 
there  is  one  whom  I  ought,  perhaps,  to  have  taken  an 
earlier  opportunity  of  separating  from  the  rest,  on  account 
of  the  uncommon  union  displayed  in  his  writings,  of 
learning,  liberality,  and  philosophical  depth.  To  those 
who  have  read  his  works,  it  is  scarcely  necessary  for  me 
to  add  the  name  of  De  Gerando;  an  author,  between 
whose  general  views  and  my  own,  I  have  been  peculiarly 
flattered  to  remark  a  striking  coincidence;  and  whose 
dissent  from  some  of  the  conclusions  which  I  have  en- 
deavoured to  establish,  I  would  willingly  believe,  is  ow- 

*  We  are  told  by  one  of  the  most  acute  and  original  partizans 
of  this  new  nomenclature,  that  Ideology  is  a  branch  of  Zoology; 
"  having,  for  its  object,  to  examine  the  intellectual  faculties  of  man, 
"  and  of  other  animals."  The  classification,  I  must  own,  appears  to 
myself  not  a  little  extraordinary;  but  my  only  reason  for  objecting  to 
it  here  is,  that  it  is  obviously  intended  to  prepare  the  way  for  an 
assumption,  which  at  once  levels  man  with  the  brutes,  without  the 
slightest  discussion.  "  Fenser,  c'est  toujours  seiitir,  et  ce  n*est  Hen 
"  que  se/z^tr."— Elem.  d'ideologie,  par  L.  C.  Destutt-Tracy,  Senateur. 
Paris,  1804. 


156  'ON  THE  INFLUENCE  OP  LOCKE  UPON  [Essay  IIL 

ing  more  to  the  imperfect  statement  I  have  yet  given  of 
my  opinions,  than  to  the  unsoundness  of  the  arguments 
•  which  led  me  to  adopt  them.  In  the  present  instance,  at 
least,  his  opinion  seems  to  me  to  be,  at  bottom,  nearly,  if 
not  exactly,  the  same  with  that  which  I  proposed  in  my 
first  volume;  and  yet  a  careless  reader  would  be  apt  to  class 
us  with  two  sects  diametrically  opposed  to  each  other. 

"  All  the  systems  which  can  possibly  be  imagined, 
"  with  respect  to  the  generation  of  our  ideas,  may  be  re- 
"  duced,"  (according  to  M.  De  Gerando*)  "  as  to  their 
*''■  fundaviental principle ^  to  this  simple  alternative:  either 
"  all  our  ideas  have  their  origin  in  impressions  made  on  our 
"  senses,  or  there  are  ideas  which  have  7iot  their  origin  in 
"  such  impressions;  and  which,  of  consequence,  are  placed 
"  in  the  mind  imtnediately,  belonging  to  it  as  a  part  of  its 
"  nature  or  essence. 

"  Thus,  the  opinions  of  philosophers,  whether  ancient 
"  or  modern,  concerning  the  generation  of  our  ideas,  ar- 
"  range  themselves  in  two  opposite  columns;  the  one 
"  comprehending  the  systems  which  adopt  for  a  princi- 
*'  pie,  nihil  est  in  intellectu  quin  priusfuerit  in  sensu;  the 
"  other,  the  systems  which  admit  the  existence  of  innate 
"  ideas,  or  of  ideas  inherent  in  the  understanding." 

That  M.  De  Gerando  himself  did  not  consider  this 
classification  as  altogether  unexceptionable,  appears  from 
the  paragraph  immediately  following;  in  which  he  re- 
marks, that,  "  among  the  philosophers  who  have  adopted 
"  these  contradictory  opinions,  there  are  several,  appa- 
"  rently  attached  to  the  same  systems,  who  have  not  adopt- 

*  That  I  may  do  no  injustice  to  M.  De  Gerando,  by  any  misap- 
prehension of  his  meaning  on  so  nice  a  question,  1  have  quoted  the 
original  in  note  (M). 


Essay  III]      THE  SYSTEMS  OF  FRENCH  PHILOSOPHERS.  157 

"  ed  them  from  the  same  motives;  or  who  have  not  ex- 
"  plained  them  in  the  same  manner;  or  virho  have  not 
"  deduced  from  them  the  same  consequences."  Nothing 
can  be  juster  or  better  expressed  than  this  observation; 
and  I  have  only  to  regret,  that  it  did  not  lead  the  very  in- 
genious and  candid  writer  to  specify,  in  the  outset  of  his 
work,  the  precise  import  of  the  various  systems  here  al- 
luded to.  Had  he  done  so,  he  could  not  have  failed  to 
have  instantly  perceived,  that,  while  some  of  the  opinions 
which  he  has  classed  under  one  common  denomination, 
agree  with  each  other  merely  in  language,  and  are  com- 
pletely hostile  in  substance  and  spirit;  others  which,  agree- 
ably to  his  principle  of  distribution,  must  be  considered 
as  disputing  between  them  the  exclusive  possession  of  the 
philosophical  field,  differ,  in  fact,  chiefly  in  phraseology; 
while,  on  every  point  connected  with  the  foundations  of 
a  sound  and  enlightened  logic,  they  are  perfectly  agreed. 

If,  in  endeavouring  to  supply  this  omission  in  my 
friend's  treatise,  I  should  be  successful  in  establishing  the 
justness  of  the  criticism  which  I  have  hazarded  on  some 
of  his  historical  statements,  the  conclusion  resulting  from 
my  argument  will,  I  am  confident,  be  not  less  acceptable 
to  him  than  to  me,  by  shewing,  not  only  how  very  nearly 
we  are  agreed  on  this  fundamental  article  of  our  favour- 
ite science,  but  that  the  case  has  been  similar  with  many 
of  our  predecessors,  who  little  suspected  that  the  differ- 
ence between  the  tenets,  for  which  they  contended  so 
zealously,  was  little  more  than  nominal. 

Without  entering  into  a  nice  discrimination  of  systems, 
evidently  the  same  in  their  nature  and  tendency,  and  dis- 
tinguished only  by  some  accessory  peculiarities,  (such,  for 
example,  as  the  respective  doctrines  of  Des  Cartes  and 


158  ON  THE  INFLUENCE  OF  LOCKE  UPOW         [Essay  III. 

Malebranche  concerning  innate  ideas)  it  appears  to  me, 
that  the  most  noted  opinions  of  modern  philosophers, 
with  respect  to  the  origin  of  our  knowledge,  may  be  re- 
ferred to  one  or  other  of  the  following  heads. 

1.  The  opinion  of  those  who  hold  the  doctrine  of  innate 
ideas,  in  the  sense  in  which  it  was  understood  by  Des 
Cartes  and  Malebranche;  that  is,  as  implying  the  existence 
in  the  ?nindy  of  objects  of  thought  distinct  frotn  the  mind  it- 
self; coeval  with  it  as  an  essential  part  of  its  intellectual 
furniture;  and  altogether  independent  of  any  information 
collected  from  without.  Of  this  description  (according  to 
the  Cartesians)  are  the  ideas  of  God,  of  existence,  of 
thought,  and  many  others,  which,  though  clearly  appre- 
hended by  the  understanding,  bear  no  resemblance  to  any 
sensation:  and  which,  of  consequence,  they  concluded 
must  have  been  implanted  in  the  mind,  at  the  moment  of 
its  first  formation. 

It  is  against  the  hypothesis  of  innate  ideas,  thus  inter- 
preted, and  which,  in  the  present  times,  scarcely  seems  to 
us  to  have  ever  merited  a  serious  refutation,  that  Locke 
directs  the  greater  part  of  his  reasonings  in  the  beginning 
of  his  Essay. 

In  England,  for  many  years  past,  this  doctrine  has  sunk 
into  complete  oblivion,  excepting  as  a  monument  of  the 
follies  of  the  learned;  but  we  have  the  authority  of  De 
Gerando  to  assure  us,  that  it  was  taught  in  the  schools  of 
France  till  towards  the  very  conclusion  of  the  last  cen- 
tury.* Perhaps  this  circumstance  may  help  to  account  for 

*  L'idec  de  Dieu,  celle  de  I'existence,  cclle  de  la  ficnsee,  disent  ils, 
ne  ressemblent  a  uucune  sensation.  Ccpendant  elles  sont  clairement 
dans  I'esprit:  il  faut  done  qu'ellcs  viennent  d'une  autre  source  que 
des  sens,  et  par  consequent,  qu'elles  soient  filacees  immediatevient 


Essay  III]      THE  SYSTEMS  OF  FRENCH  PHILOSOPHERS.  159 

the  disposition  which  so  many  French  philosophers  have 
shewn,  in  later  times,  to  reject,  indiscriminately,  every 
principle  which  they  conceived  to  have  the  most  remote 
connection  with  that  absurd  hypothesis. 

2.  The  opinion  of  Locke^  in  the  sense  in  which  it  was 
understood,  not  only  by  himself,  but  by  Berkeley  and 
Hume,  and  indeed  (with  a  very  i^w  exceptions)  by  all 
the  most  eminent  philosophers  of  England,  from  the  pub- 
lication of  the  Essay  on  the  Human  Understanding,  till 
that  of  Reid's  Inquiry  into  the  mind.  This  opinion  leads, 
(as  has  been  already  observed)  by  a  short  and  demonstra- 
tive process  of  reasoning,  to  Berkeley's  conclusion  with 
respect  to  the  ideal  existence  of  the  material  world,  and 
to  the  universal  scepticism  of  Hume. 

3.  The  opinion  of  Locke ^  as  interpreted  by  Diderot; — 
in  which  sense  it  leads  obviously  to  an  extravagance  dia- 
metrically opposite  to  that  of  Berkeley, — the  scheme  of 
materialism. — Nor  does  it  lead  merely  to  materialism^  as 
that  scheme  has  bee^i  explained  by  some  of  its  more  cau- 
tious advocates.  It  involves,  as  a  necessary  consequence, 
(according  to  the  avowal  of  Diderot  himself)  the  total  re- 
jection, from  the  book  of  human  knowledge,  of  every 
word  which  does  not  present  a  notion  copied,  like  a  pic- 
ture or  image,  from  some  archetype  among  the  objects 
of  external  perception. 

4.  The  opinion  or  rather  the  statement  of  Locke,  modi- 
fied and  limited  by  such  a  comment  as  I  have  attempted 
in  the  fourth  section  of  the  first  chapter  of  the  Philosophy 

dans  notre  ame.  Ces  ofiinions  ont  ete,  firesque  jusgu'd  la  Jin  clu  der- 
nier siecle,  enseignSes  dana  les  ecoles  de  France. — De  la  Generation 
des  Connoissances  Hutnaines,  p.  62,  (a  Berlin,  1802.) 

This  fact  affords  an  additional  confirmation  of  a  remark  formerltt 
<lUoted  from  D'Alembert,  see  p.  153,  of  this  volume. 


160  ON  THE  INFLUENCE  OF  LOCKE  UPON  [Essay  IH. 

of  the  Human  Mind.  The  substance  of  that  comment,  I 
must  beg  leave  once  more  to  remind  my  readers,  amounts 
to  the  following  general  proposition: 

All  our  simple  notions,  or,  in  other  words,  all  the  pri- 
mary elements  of  our  knowledge,  arc  either  presented  to 
the  mind  immediately  by  the  powers  of  consciousness  and 
of  perception,*  or  they  are  gradually  unfolded  in  the  exer- 
cise of  the  various  faculties  which  characterize  the  human 
understanding.  According  to  this  view  of  the  subject, 
the  sum  total  of  our  knowledge  may  undoubtedly  be  said  to 
originate  in  sensation,  inasmuch  as  it  is  by  impressions 
from  without,  that  consciousness  is  first  awakened,  and 
the  different  faculties  of  the  understanding  put  in  action; 
but  that  this  enunciation  of  the  fact  is,  from  its  concise- 
ness and  vagueness,  liable  to  the  grossest  misconstruction, 
appears  sufficiently  from  the  interpretation  given  to  it  by 
Locke's  French  commentators,  and  more  particularly  by 
Diderot,  in  the  passage  quoted  from  his  works  in  a  for- 
mer part  of  this  Essay. 

It  must  appear  obvious  to  every  person  who  has  read, 
with  due  attention,  M.  De  Gcrando's  memoir,  that  it  is 
precisely  in  the  qualified  sense  which  I  have  attached  to 
Locke's  words,  that  he  all  along  defends  them  so  zeal- 
ously; and  yet  I  am  strongly  incUned  to  consider  Locke's 
words,  when  thus  interpreted,  as  far  more  widely  removed 
from  the  opinion  of  Diderot,  than  from  the  antiquated 
theory  of  innate  ideas.  Perhaps  I  might  even  venture  to 
say,  that  were  the  ambiguous  and  obnoxious  epithet  in- 
nate laid  aside,  and  all  the  absurdities  discarded,  which 
are  connected,  either  with  the  Platonic,  with  the  Scholas- 
tic, or  with  the  Cartesian  hypothesis,  concerning  the  na- 

*  See  Note  (N). 


Essay  m.]      THE  SYSTEMS  OF  FRENCH  PHILOSOPHERS.  161 

lure  of  ideas,  this  last  theory  would  agree,  in  substance, 
with  the  conclusion  which  I  have  been  attempting  to 
establish  by  an  induction  of  facts.  For  my  own  part,  at 
least,  I  must  acknowledge  that,  in  the  passages  formerly 
quoted  from  Cudworth,  Leibnitz,  and  Harris,*  there 
are  only  a  few  peculiarities  of  hypothetical  phraseology 
to  which  I  am  able  to  oppose  any  valid  objection.  The 
statements  contained  in  them  exhibit  the  whole  truth  blen- 
ded with  a  portion  of  fiction;  whereas,  that  to  which  they 
stand  opposed,  not  only  falls  short  of  the  truth,  but  is 
contradicted  by  many  of  the  most  obvious  and  incontro- 
vertible phenomena  of  the  understanding. 

On  this,  as  on  many  other  occasions,  I  have  had  much 
pleasure  in  recalling  to  recollection  an  observation  of  Leib- 
nitz. "  Truth  is  more  generally  diffused  in  the  world  than 
"  is  commonly  imagined;  but  it  is  too  often  disguised, 
*'  and  even  corrupted,  by  an  alloy  of  error,  which  con- 
''  ceals  it  from  notice,  or  impairs  its  utility.  By  detect- 
"  ing  it  wherever  it  is  to  be  found,  among  tlie  rubbish 
*'  which  our  predecessors  have  left  behind  them,  we  have 
"  not  only  the  advantage  resulting  from  the  enlargement 
"  of  our  knowledge,  but  the  satisfaction  of  substituting, 
*'  instead  of  a  succession  of  apparently  discordant  sys- 
"  tems,  a  permanent  and  eternal  philosophy  (perennem 
"  quandam  philosophiamj, — varying  widely  in  its  forms 
"  from  age  to  age,  yet  never  failing  to  exhibit  a  portion 
"  of  truth,  as  its  immutable  basis." 

The  mistakes  into  which  modern  philosophers  have 
fallen,  on  the  important  question  now  under  our  review, 
may,  I  think,  be  traced  to  a  rash  extension,  or  rather,  to 
a  total  misapplication  of  Bacon's  maxim,  that  all  our 

♦^  See  p.  90,  et  seq. 

X 


162  ON  TIIK  INFLUENCE  OF  LOCKE  UPON  [Essay  IIL 

knowledge  is  derived  from  experience.  It  is  with  this 
maxim,  that  Locke  prefaces  his  theory  concerning  sensa- 
tion and  reflection,  and  it  is  from  that  preface  that  M. 
De  Gerando  borrows  the  motto  of  his  own  speculations 
upon  the  origin  of  our  ideas.  "  Let  us  suppose"  (says 
Locke)  "  the  mind  to  be,  as  we  say,  white  paper,  void  of 
"  all  characters,  without  any  ideas;  how  comes  it  to  be 
*'  furnished?  Whence  comes  it  by  that  vast  store  which 
"  the  busy  and  boundless  fancy  of  man  has  painted  on  it, 
"  with  an  almost  endless  variety?  Whence  has  it  all  the 
**  materials  of  reason  and  knowledge?  To  this  I  answer, 
"  in  a  w^ord,  from  experience.  In  that  all  our  knowledge 
"  is  founded,  and  from  that  it  ultimately  derives  itself."* 
In  what  sense  this  celebrated  maxim  ought  to  be  under- 
stood, I  shall  endeavour  to  shew  more  particularly,  if  I 
should  live  to  execute  a  plan  which  I  have  long  meditated, 
of  analysing  the  logical  processes  by  which  we  are  con- 
ducted to  the  different  classes  of  truths,  and  of  tracing  the 
different  kinds  of  evidence  to  their  respective  sources  in 
our  intellectual  frame.  For  my  present  purpose,  it  is  suffi- 
cient to  observe,  in  general,  that  however  universally  the 
maxim  may  be  supposed  to  apply  to  our  knowledge  of 
facts,  whether  relating  to  external  nature,  or  to  our  own 
minds,  we  must,  nevertheless,  presuppose  the  existence  of 
some  intellectual  capacities  or  powers  in  that  being  by 

*  It  is  a  circumstance  somewhat  curious  in  Locke's  Essay,  thai 
in  no  part  of  it  arc  the  works  of  Bacon  quoted,  or  even  his  name 
mentioned.  In  tiikino-  notice  of  this,  I  do  not  mean  to  insinuate, 
that  he  has  been  indebted  to  Bacon  for  ideas  which  he  was  unwilling 
to  acknowledge.  On  the  contrary,  I  think  that  the  value  of  his 
Essay  would  have  been  still  greater  than  it  is,  if  he  had  been  better 
actjuainted  with  Bacon's  writings.  The  chief  sources  of  Locke's 
philosophy,  where  he  does  not  give  scope  to  his  own  powerful  and 
original  genius,  are  to  be  found  in  Gassendi  and  Hobbes. 


Essay  III.]      THE  SYSTEMS  OF  FRENCH  PHILOSOPHERS.  163 

whom  this  knowledge  is  to  be  acquired;  powers  which  are 
necessarily  accompanied,  in  their  exercise,  with  various 
simple  notions^  and  various  ultimate  laws  of  belief  for 
which  experience  is  altogether  incompetent  to  account. 
How  is  it  possible,  for  example,  to  explain,  upon  this 
principle  alone,  by  any  metaphysical  refinement,  the  ope- 
rations of  that  reason  which  observes  these  phenomena; 
which  records  the  past;  which  looks  forward  to  the  future; 
which  argues  synthetically  from  things  known,  to  others 
which  it  has  no  opportunity  of  subjecting  to  the  exami- 
nation of  the  senses;  and  which  has  created  a  vast  science 
of  demonstrative  truths,  presupposing  no  knowledge 
whatever  but  of  its  own  definitions  and  axioms?  To  say 
that,  even  in  this  science,  the  ideas  of  extension,  o^ figure^ 
and  of  quantity,  are  originally  acquired  by  our  external 
senses,  is  a  childish  play  upon  words,  quite  foreign  to  the 
point  at  issue.  Is  there  any  one  principle  from  which  JEu- 
elid  deduces  a  single  consequei;ce,  the  evidence  of  which 
rests  upon  experience,  in  the  sense  in  which  that  word  is 
employed  in  the  inductive  logic?  If  there  were,  geometry 
would  be  no  longer  a  demonstrative  science. 

Nor  is  this  all.  The  truths  in  mathematics  (admitting 
that  of  the  hypotheses  on  which  our  reasonings  proceed) 
are  eternal  and  necessary;  and,  consequently,  (as  was  ear- 
ly remarked,  in  opposition  to  Locke's  doctrine)  could  ne- 
ver have  been  inferred  from  experience  alone.  "  If  Locke" 
(says  Leibnitz)  "  had  sufficiently  considered  the  difference 
"  b'etween  truths  which  are  necessary  or  demonstrative, 
*'  and  those  which  we  infer  from  induction  alone,  he  would 
*'  have  perceived,  that  necessary  truths  could  only  be 
**  proved  from  principles  which  command  our  assent  by 
**  their  intuitive  evidence;  inasmuch  as  our  senses  can  in- 


1 64  ON  THE  INFLUENCE  OF  LOCKE  UPON  [Essay  IH. 

"  form  us  only  of  what  w,  not  of  what  must  necessarily 

But,  even  with  respect  Xo  facts,  there  are  certain  limi- 
tations with  which  this  maxim  must  be  received.  Whence 
arises  our  belief  of  the  continuance  of  the  laws  of  nature? 
Whence  our  inferences  from  the  past  to  the  future?  Not 
surely  from  experience  alone.  Although,  therefore,  it 
should  be  granted,  as  I  readily  do,  that  in  reasoning  con- 
cerning the  yw^z/r*?,  we  are  entitled  to  assume  no  fact  as  a 
datum  which  is  not  verified  by  the  experience  of  the  past ^ 
(which,  by  the  way,  is  the  sole  amount  of  ^acow'.s  aphor- 
ism), the  question  still  remains,  what  is  the  origin  of  our 
confide  t  belief,  \\\^X.  past  events  may  be  safely  assumed 
as  signs  of  those  which  are  yet  to  happen?  The  case  is  pre- 
cisely the  samr  with  the  faith  we  repose  in  human  testi- 
mony; nor  would  it  be  at  all  altered,  if,  in  the  course  of 
our  past  experience,  that  testimony  had  Tiot  once  deceived 
us.  Even,  on  that  supposition,  the  question  would  still 
recur,  whence  is  it  we  conclude,  that  it  will  not  deceive 
us  in  future?  or  (what  comes  nearly  to  the  same  thing) 
that  we  give  any  credit  to  the  narratives  of  men  who  ex- 
isted two  thousand  years  ago?  No  proposition,  surely,  can 
be  more  evident  than  this,  that  experience^  in  the  accep- 
tation in  which  Locke  and  his  followers  profess  to  under- 
stand it,  can  inform  us  of  nothing  but  what  has  actually 
fallen  under  the  retrospect  of  memory. — Of  the  truth  and 

*  Si  Lockius  discrimen  inter  veritates  nccessarias  seu  demonstra- 
tione  perceptas,  et  eas  quae  nobis  sola  inductione  ulcunque  innotcs- 
cunt,  satis  considerasset, — animadvertisset,  necessarias  non  posse 
comprobari,  nisi  ex  principiis  menti  insitis;  cum  sensus  quidem  do- 
ceant  quid  fiat,  sed  non  quid  necessario  fiat. — Tom.  V.  p.  358.  (Edit. 
Dutens.) 


Kssay  III.]      THE  SYSTEMS  OF  FRENCH  PHILOSOPHERS.  165 

importance  of  these  considerations,  no  philosopher  seems 
to  have  been  fully  aware,  previous  to  Mr.  Hume.  "  As  to 
"  past  experience,"  (he  observes)  "  it  can  be  allowed  to 
"  give  direct  and  certain  information  of  those  precise  ob- 
"  jects  only,  and  that  precise  period  of  time,  which  fell 
"  under  its  cognizance;  but  why  this  experience  should 
'*  be  extended  to  future  times,  and  to  other  objects, — this 
*'  is  the  main  question  on  which  I  would  insist."*  What 
is  the  proper  answer  to  this  question  is  of  no  moment  to 
our  present  argument.  It  is  sufficient,  if  it  be  granted,  that 
experience  alone  does  not  afford  an  adequate  explanation 
of  the  fact. 

In  concluding  this  essay,  it  may  not  be  altogether  use- 
less to  remark  the  opposite  errors  which  the  professed 
followers  of  Bacon  have  committed,  in  studying  the  phe- 
nomena of  matter,  and  those  of  mind.  In  the  former,  vvhere 
Bacon's  maxim  seems  to  hold  without  any  limitation,  they 
have  frequently  shewn  a  disposition  to  stop  short  in  its 
application;  and  to  consider  certain  physical  laws  (such 
as  the  relation  between  the  force  of  gravitation,  and  the 
distance  of  the  gravitating  bodies),  as  necessary  truths, 
or  truths  Avhich  admitted  of  a  proof,  a  priori;  while,  on 
the  other  hand,  in  the  science  of  mind,  where  the  same 
principle,  when  carried  beyond  certain  limits,  involves  a 
manifest  absurdity,  they  have  attempted  to  extend  it, 
without  one  single  exception,  to  all  the  primary  elements 
of  our  knowledge,  and  even  to  the  generation  of  those 
reasoning  faculties  which  form  the  characteristical  attri- 
butes of  our  species. 

*  See  Hume's  essay  entitled  Sceptical  Doubts,  &c 


ESSAY  FOURTH. 

ON  THE  METAPHYSICAL  THEORIES   OF  HARTLEY, 
PRIESTLEY,  AND  DARWIN. 

W  HEN  I  hinted,  in  the  preceding  essay,  that  the  doc- 
trines prevalent  in  this  country,  with  respect  to  the  origin 
of  our  knowledge,  were,  in  general,  more  precise  and  just 
than  those  adopted  by  the  disciples  of  Condillac,  I  was 
aware  that  some  remarkable  exceptions  might  be  alleged 
to  the  universality  of  my  observations.  Of  those,  indeed, 
who,  in  either  part  of  the  united  kingdom,  have  confined 
their  researches  to  the  Philosophy  of  the  Human  Mind, 
properly  so  called,  I  do  not  recollect  any  individual  of 
much  literary  eminence,  who  has  carried  Locke's  prin- 
ciple to  such  an  extravagant  length  as  Diderot  and  Hel- 
vetius;  but,  from  that  class  of  our  authors,  who  have,  of 
late  years,  been  attempting  to  found  a  new  school,  by 
jumbling  together  scholastic  metaphysics  and  hypothetical 
physiology,  various  instances  might  be  produced  of  the- 
orists, whose  avowed  opinions  on  this  elementary  ques- 
tion, not  only  rival,  but  far  surpass  that  of  the  French 
Materialists,  in  point  of  absurdity. 

Among  the  authors  just  alluded  to,  the  most  noted  are 
Hartley,  Priestley  and  Darwin;  all  of  whom,  notwithstand- 
ing the  differences  among  them  on  particular  points,  agree 
nearly  in  their  conclusions  concerning  the  sources  of  our 
ideas.  The  first  of  these,  after  telling  us,  that "  all  our  in- 
"  ternal  feelings,  excepting  our  sensations,  may  be  called 


Essay  IV.]  ON  THE  METAPHYSICAL  THEORIES,  &c.  167 

"  ideas; — that  the  ideas  which  resemble  sensations  may 
"  be  called  ideas  of  sensation  y  and  all  the  rest  intellectual 
"  ideas;''^ — adds,  "  that  the  ideas  of  sensation  are  the  ele- 
"  ?nents  of  which  all  the  rest  are  compounded."*  In  ano- 
ther passage  he  expresses  his  hopes,  that,  "  by  pursuing 
"  and  perfecting  the  doctrine  of  association,  he  may,  some 
"  time  or  other,  be  enabled  to  analyse  all  that  vast  variety 
"  of  complex  ideas,  which  pass  under  the  name  of  ideas 
"  ofrejiectioji  and  intellectual  ideas,  into  their  simple  com- 
*'  pounding  parts;  that  is,  into  the  simple  ideas  of  sensation 
"  of  which  they  consist."f  And  in  a  subsequent  part  of 
his  work,  he  points  out,  still  more  explicitly,  the  differ- 
ence between  his  own  doctrine  and  that  of  Locke,  in  the 
following  words:  "  It  may  not  be  amiss  here  to  take  notice 
"  how  far  the  theory  of  these  papers  has  led  me  to  differ, 
"  in  respect  of  logic,  from  Mr.  Locke's  excellent  Essay 
"  on  the  Human  Understanding,  to  which  the  world  is  so 
*'  much  indebted  for  removing  prejudices  and  incum- 
"  brances,  and  advancing  real  and  useful  knowledge." 

"  First,  then,  it  appears  to  me,  that  all  the  n\ost  com- 
"  plex  ideas  arise  from  sensation;  and  that  rejiection  is  not 
"  a  distinct  source,  as  Mr.  Locke  makes  it."| 

The  obvious  meaning  of  these  different  passages  is, 
that  we  have  no  direct  knowledge  of  the  operations  of  our 
own  minds;  nor  indeed  any  knowledge  whatsoever,  which 
is  not  ultimately  resolvable  into  sensible  images. 

As  to  Dr.  Hartley's  grand  arcanum,  the  principle  of 
association,  by  which  he  conceives  that  ideas  of  sensation^ 
may  be  transmuted  into  ideas  of  refection,  I  have  nothing 
to  add  to  what  I  have  already  remarked,  on  the  unexam- 

*  Hartley  on  Man,  4th  edition,  p.  2,  of  the  Introduction. 
+  Ibid.  pp.  75,  76.  \  Page  360. 


168  ON  THE  METAPHYSICAL  THEORIES  OF         [Essay  IV, 

pled  latitude  with  which  the  words  association  and  idea 
are,  both  of  them,  emplo}  ed,  through  the  whole  of  his 
theory.  His  ultimate  aim,  in  this  part  of  it,  is  precisely 
the  same  with  that  of  the  schoolmen,  when  they  attempt- 
ed to  explain,  by  the  hypothesis  of  certain  internal  senses y 
how  the  sensible  species  received  from  external  objects, 
are  so  refined  and  spiritualized,  as  to  become,  first,  ob- 
jects of  memory  and  imagination;  and,  at  last,  objects  of 
pure  intellection.  Such  reveries  are  certainly  not  entitled 
to  a  serious  examination  in  the  present  age.* 

*  I  do  not  recollect  that  any  one  has  hitherto  taken  notice  of  the 
wonderful  coincidence,  in  this  instance,  between  Hartley's  Theory, 
and  that  of  Condillac,  formerly  mentioned,  concerning^  the  trannfor- 
mation  of  sensations  into  ideas.  Condillac's  earliest  work  (which  was 
published  in  1746,  three  years  before  Hartley's  Observations  on 
Man)  is  entitled,  Kssai  sur  I'origine  dcs  Connoissances  Hurnaines. 
Ouvrage  oii  I'on  rediiit  a  tin  seul  princifie  iout  ce  qui  concerne  Cen- 
tendevient  humain.  This  .sez^Z/in^cz/ie  is  precisely  the  association  oj' 
ideas.  "  J'ai,  ce  me  senible,"  (the  author  tells  us  in  his  introduction) 
"  trouve  la  solution  de  tous  ces  problenies  dans  la  liaison  des  idees, 
"  soit  avec  les  signes,  soit  entr'elles." — In  establishing  this  theory, 
he  avails  himself  of  a  licence  in  the  use  of  the  words  idea  and  asso- 
ciation, (although,  in  my  opinion,  with  far  greater  ingenuity)  strictly 
analogous  to  what  we  meet  with  in  the  works  of  Hartley. 

Another  coincidence,  not  less  extraordinary,  may  be  remarked 
between  Hartley's  Theory  of  the  Mechanism  of  the  Mind,  and  the 
speculations  on  the  same  subject,  of  the  justly  celebrated  Charles 
Bonnet  of  Geneva. 

In  mentioning  these' historical  facts,  I  have  not  the  most  distant 
intention  of  insinuating  any  suspicion  of  plagiarism;  a  suspicion 
which  I  never  can  entertain  with  respect  to  any  writer  of  origi- 
nal genius,  and  of  fair  character,  but  upon  the  most  direct  and 
conclusive  evidence.  The  two  very  respectable  foreigners,  whose 
names  have  been  already  mentioned  in  this  note,  have  furnished 
another  example  of  coincidence,  fully  as  curious  as  either  of  the  pre- 
ceding: I  allude  to  the  hypothesis  of  the  animated  statue,  which 
they  both  adopted  about  the  same  time,  in  tracing  the  origin  and 
progress  of  our  knowledge;  and  which  neither  seems  to  have  bor- 

2 


Essay  IV.]  HARTLEY,  PRIESTLEY,  AND  DARWIN.  169 

It  must  not,  however,  be  concluded  from  these  extracts, 
that  Hartley  was  a  decided  materialist.  On  the  contrary, 
after  observing,  that  "  his  theory  must  be  allowed  to  over- 
"  turn  all  the  arguments  which  are  usually  brought  for 
"  the  immateriality  of  the  soul  from  the  subtilty  oi  the 
"  internal  senses,  and  of  the  rational  faculty,"  he  acknow- 
ledges candidly  his  own  conviction,  that  "  matter  and  ' 
"  motion,  however  subtly  divided,  or  reasoned  upon,  yield 
*'  nothing  but  matter  and  motion  still;"  and  therefore  re- 
quests, that  ''  he  may  not  be,  in  any  way,  interpreted  so 
*'  as  to  oppose  the  immateriality  of  the  soul."*  I  mention 
this  in  justice  to  Hartley,  as  most  of  his  later  followers 
have  pretended,  that,  by  rejecting  the  supposition  of  a 
principle  distinct  from  body,  they  have  simplified  and 
perfected  his  theory. 

With  respect  to  Hartley's  great  apostle.  Dr.  Priestley, 
I  am  somewhat  at  a  loss,  whether  to  class  him  with  mate- 
rialists, or  with  immaterialists;  as  I  find  him  an  advocate, 
at  one  period  of  his  life,  for  what  he  was  then  pleased  to 
call  the  immateriality  of  matter,  and,  at  another,  for  the 
materiality  of  mind.  Of  the  former  of  these  doctrines,  to 
which  no  words  can  do  justice  but  those  of  the  author,  I 
shall  quote  his  own  statement  from  his  "  History  of  Dis- 
"  coveries  relating  to  Vision,  Light,  and  Colours,"  first 
published  in  1772. 

"  This  scheme  of  the  immateriality  of  matter, 
"as  it  may  be  called,  or  rather  the  mutual  penetra- 
"  tion  of  matter,  first  occurred  to  my  friend  Mr.  Mitchell, 
"  on  reading  "  Baxter  on  the  Immateriality  of  the  Soul.^* 

rowed,  in  the  slightest  degree,  from  any  previous  acquaintance  with 
the  speculations  of  the  other. 

*  Hartley's  Observations,  pp.  51 1,  and  512. 


170  ON  THE  METAPHYSICAL  THEORIES  OF        [Essay  IV. 

**  He  found  that  this  author's  idea  of  matter  was,  that  it 
"  consisted,  as  it  were,  of  bricks,  cemented  together  by 
"  an  immaterial  mortar.  These  bricks,  if  he  would  be  con- 
"  sistent  to  his  own  reasoning,  were  again  composed  of 
*'  less  bricks,  cemented  likewise  by  an  immaterial  mor- 
*'  tar,  and  so  on  ad  infinitum.  This  putting  Mr.  Mitchell 
"  upon  the  consideration  of  the  several  appearances  of 
"  nature,  he  began  to  perceive,  that  the  bricks  were  so 
"  covered  with  this  immaterial  mortar,  that  if  they  had 
"any  existence,  at  all,  it  could  not  possibly  be  perceived, 
*'  every  effect  being  produced,  at  least  in  nine  instances 
"  in  ten  certainly,  and  probably  in  the  tenth  also,  by 
*'  this  immaterial,  spiritual,  and  penetrable  mortar.  In- 
"  stead,  therefore,  of  placing  the  world  upon  the  giant, 
*'  the  giant  upon  the  tortoise,  and  the  tortoise  upon  he 
*'  could  not  tell  what,  he  placed  the  world  at  once  upon 
*'  itself;  and  finding  it  still  necessar\%  in  order  to  solve 
"  the  appearances  of  nature,  to  admit  of  extended  and 
"  penetrable  immaterial  substance,  if  he  maintained  the 
"  impenetrability  of  matter,  and  observing  farther,  that 
"  all  we  perceive  by  contact,  &c.  is  this  penetrable  im- 
"  material  substance,  and  not  the  impenetrable  one,  he 
"  began  to  think  he  might  as  well  admit  oi penetrable  ma- 
"  terial,  as  of  penetrable  immaterial  substance^  especially 
"  as  we  know  nothing  more  of  the  nature  of  substance^ 
*'  than  that  it  is  something  which  supports  properties y 
"  which  properties  may  be  whatever  we  please,  provided 
"  they  be  not  inconsistent  with  each  other,  that  is,  do 
"  not  imp!}'  the  absence  of  each  other.  This  by  no 
"  means  seemed  to  be  the  case,  in  supposing  two  sub- 
"  stances  to  be  in  the  same  place  at  the  same  time,  with- 
"  out  excluding  each  other;  the  objection  to  which  is 
**  only  derived  from  the  resistance  we  meet  with  to  the 


Easay  IV.]  HARTLEY,  PRIESTLEY,  AND  DARWIN.  171 

"  touch,  and  is  a  prejudice  that  has  taken  its  rise  from  that 
*'  circumstance,  and  is  not  unlike  the  prejudice  against 
"  the  Antipodes,  derived  from  the  constant  experience  of 
"  bodies  falling,  as  we  account  it,  downwards."* 

In  the  disquisitions  on  matter  and  spirit,  by  the  same 
author,  (the  second  edition  of  which  appeared  in  1782) 
the  above  passage  is  quoted  at  length;!  but  it  is  some- 
what remarkable,  that,  as  the  aim  of  the  latter  work  is,  to 
inculcate  the  materiality  of  mind^  Dr.  Priestley  has  prudent- 
ly suppressed  the  clause  which  I  have  distinguished  in 
the  first  sentence  of  the  foregoing  extract,  by  printing  it 
in  capitals. 

In  one  opinion,  however,  this  ingenious  writer  seems 
to  have  uniformly  persevered  since  he  first  republished 
Hartley's  Theory,  that  "  man  does  not  consist  of  two 
**^ principles  so  essentially  different  from  one  another  as 
*'  matter  and  spirit;  but  that  the  whole  man  is  of  some 
"  uniform  composition;^  and  that  either  the  material  or 
*'  the  immaterial  part  of  the  universal  system  is  superflu- 
"  ous."^  To  this  opinion  (erroneous  as  I  conceive  it  to 
be)  I  have  no  inclination  to  state  any  metaphysical  ob- 
jections at  present;  as  it  does  not  interfere,  in  the  slightest 
degree,  with  what  1  consider  as  the  appropriate  business 
of  the  philosophy  of  the  human  mind.  I  object  to  it  mere- 
ly, as  it  may  have  a  tendency  to  mislead  our  logical  con- 
clusions, concerning  the  origin  and  certainty  of  human 
knowledge.  Highly  important  as  the  question  concerning 
the  nature  of  mind  may  be  supposed  to  be,  when  consi- 

*  Pages  392,  393. 

t  Disquisitions  on  Matter  and  Spirit,  2d  edit.  p.  26. 

t  Preface  to  Disquisitions,  p.  7. 

$  Ibid.  p.  6. 


172  ON  THE  METAPHYSICAL  THEORIES  OF        [Essay  IV. 

dered  in  connection  with  its  future  prospects,  it  is  evi- 
dently altogether  foreign  to  the  speculations  in  which  we 
are  now  engaged.  The  only  proposition  I  insist  upon  is, 
that  our  knowledge  of  its  phenomena,  and  of  the  laws 
which  regulate  them,  is  to  be  obtained,  not  by  looking 
•without,  but  by  lookmg  within.  This  rule  of  philosophizing 
(the  most  essential  of  all  in  this  branch  of  science)  is,  as 
I  formerly  observed,  not  founded  upon  any  particular 
theory,  but  is  the  obvious  and  irresistible  suggestion  of 
those  powers  of  consciousness  and  reflection,  which  are 
the  exclusive  sources  of  our  information  with  respect  to 
that  class  of  facts,  which  forms  the  appropriate  object  of 
our  study. 

It  has  become  customary,  of  late,  for  materialists,  to 
object  to  those  who  profess  to  study  the  mind  in  the  way 
of  reflection,  that  they  suffer  themselves  to  be  misled,  by 
assuming  rashly  the  existence  of  a  principle  in  man,  es- 
sentially distinct  from  any  thing  which  is  perceived  by  our 
senses.  The  truth  is,  that  while  we  adhere  to  the  method 
of  reflection,  we  never  can  be  misled  by  any  hypothesis. 
The  moment  we  abandon  it,  what  absurdities  are  we  apt 
to  fall  into! — Dr.  Priestley  himself  furnishes  me  with  an 
instance  in  point; — after  quoting  which,  I  shall  leave  my 
readers  to  judge,  which  of  the  two  parties  in  this  dispute^ 
is  most  justl}'  chargeable  with  the  error,  of  arguing  rashly 
from  a  gratuitous  assumption  concerning  the  nature  of 
mind,  to  establish  a  general  conclusion  with  respect  to  its 
principles  and  laws. 

*'  If  man"  (says  Priestley)  "  be  wholly  a  material  be- 
**  ing,  and  tht  power  of  thinking  the  result  of  a  certain 
*'  organization  of  the  brain,  does  it  not  follow,  that  all  his 
"  functions  must  be  regulated  by  the  laws  of  mechanism. 


Essay  IV.]  HARTLEY,  PRIESTLEY,  AND  DARWIN.  173 

"  and  that,  of  consequence,  all  his  actions  proceed  from 
*'an  irresistible  necessity?" 

In  another  passage,  he  observes,  that  "  the  doctrine  of 
*'  necessity  is  the  immediate  result  of  the  doctrine  of  the 
"  materiality  of  man;  for  mechanism  is  the  undoubted con- 
^^  sequence  of  materialism.'''' * 

According  to  this  argument,  the  scheme  of  material- 
ism leads,  by  one  short  and  demonstrative  step,  to  the 
denial  of  man's  free  agency;  that  is,  a  mere  hypothesis  (for 
vi^hat  materialist  can  pretend  to  offer  a  shadow  of  proof 
in  its  support?)  is  employed  to  subvert  the  authority  of 
consciousness .^  the  only  tribunal  competent  to  pass  any 
judgment  whatever  on  the  question  at  issue. 

It  is  remarkable,  that  the  argument  here  proposed  by 
Dr.  Priestley,  with  so  much  gravity,  or  at  least,  one  ex- 
tremely similar  to  it,  was  long  ago  introduced  ironically 
by  Dr.  Berkeley,  in  his  ingenious  dialogues  entitled  the 
Minute  Philosopher.  "  Corporeal  objects  strike  on  the 
"  organs  of  sense;  whence  issues  a  vibration  in  the  nerves, 
"  which,  being  communicated  to  the  soul,  or  animal  spi- 
"  rit  in  the  brain,  or  root  of  the  nerves,  produceth  therein 
"  that  motion  called  volition:  and  this  produceth  a  new 
*'  determination  in  the  spirits,  causing  them  to  flow  in 
"  such  nerves,  as  must  necessarily,  by  the  laws  of  me- 
/'  chanism,  produce  such  certain  actions.  This  being  the 
"  case,  it  follows,  that  those  things  which  vulgarly  pass 
*'  for  human  actions,  are  to  be  esteemed  mechanical,  and 
"  that  they  are  falsely  ascribed  to  a  free  principle.  There 
"  is,  therefore,  no  foundation  for  praise  or  blame,  fear  or 
"  hope,  reward  or  punishment,  nor  consequently  for  re- 
"  ligion,  which  is  built  upon,  and  supposeth  those  things." 
*  Disquisitions,  8tc.  Introd.  p.  5. 


174  ON  THE  METAPHYSICAL  THEORIES  OF        [Essay  IV. 

It  will  not,  I  trust,  be  supposed  by  any  of  my  readers, 
that  I  mean  to  ascribe  to  Dr.  Priestley  any  partiality  for 
the  dangerous  conclusions  which  Berkeley  conceived  to 
be  deducible  from  the  scheme  of  necessity.  How  widely 
soever  I  may  dissent  from  most  of  his  philosophical  te- 
nets, nobody  can  be  disposed  to  judge  more  favourably 
than  myself,  of  the  motives  from  which  he  wrote.  In  the 
present  case,  at  the  same  time,  truth  forces  me  to  add  to 
what  I  have  already  said,  that  the  alteration  which  he  has 
made  on  Berkeley's  statement,  is  far  from  being  an  im- 
provement, in  point  of  sound  logic;  for  his  peculiar  no- 
tions about  the  nature  o{ matter  (from  which  he  conceives 
himself  to  have*  "  iviped  off  the  reproach  ofbemg  neces- 
**  sarily  inert,  and  absolutely  incapable  of  intelligence, 
"  thought,  or  action,''^)  render  the  argument  altogether  nu- 
gatory, upon  his  own  principles,  even  if  it  were  admitted 
to  hold  good  upon  those  which  are  generally  received.  It 
plainly  proceeds  on  the  supposition,  that  the  common 
notions  concerning  matter  are  well-founded;  and  falls  at 
once  to  the  ground,  if  we  suppose  matter  to  combine, 
with  the  qualities  usually  ascribed  to  itself,  all  those  which 
consciousness  teaches  us  to  belong  to  mind. 

On  the  question  concerning  the  origin  of  our  knorw- 
ledge,  Priestley  has  nowhere  explained  his  opinion  fully, 
so  far  as  I  am  able  to  recollect;  but  from  his  reverence 
for  Hartley,  I  take  for  granted,  that,  on  this  point,  he  did 
not  dissent  from  the  conclusions  of  his  master.  In  one 
particular,  I  think  it  probable  that  he  went  a  little  farther; 
the  general  train  of  his  speculations  concerning  the  hu- 
man mind,  leading  me  to  suspect,  that  he  conceived  our 

*  Disquisitions,  Sec.  Vol.  I.  p.  144,  2d  edit. 


Essay  IV.l  HARTLEY,  PRIESTLEY,  AND  DARWIN.  175 

ideas  themselves  to  be  material  substances.  In  this  con- 
jecture I  am  confirmed  by  the  following  remark,  which 
he  makes  on  a  very  puerile  argument  of  \\  ollaston, 
"  that  the  mind  cannot  be  material,  because  it  is  influen- 
"  ced  by  reasons:''^  In  reply  to  which,  Priestley  observes, 
"  that  to  say  that  7'easons  and  ideas  are  not  things  material, 
"  or  the  affections  of  a  material  substance,  is  to  take  for 
"  granted  the  very  thing  to  be  proved."* 

But  whatever  were  Priestley's  notions  upon  this  ques- 
tion, there  can  be  no  doubt  of  those  entertained  by  his 
successor,  Dr.  Darwin,  who  assumes,  as  an  ascertained 
fact,  that  "  ideas  are  material  things,"  and  reasons  about 
them  as  such,  through  the  whole  of  his  book.f  In  this 
respect,  our  English  physiologists  have  far  exceeded 
Diderot  himself  who  ventured  no  farther  than  to  affirm, 
that  "  every  idea  must  necessarily  resolve  itself  ultimately 
"  into  a  sensible  representation  or  picture."  This  lan- 
guage of  Diderot's  (a  relic  of  the  old  ideal  system,)  they 
have  not  only  rejected  with  contempt,  but  they  have  insist- 
ed, that  when  it  was  used  by  the  Aristotelians,  by  Des 

*  Disquisitions  Sec.  Vol.  I.  pp.  114,  115. 

t  In  the  very  outset  of  his  work  he  informs  us,  that  "  the  word 
"  idea^  which  has  various  meanings  in  metaphysical  writers,  may  be 
"  defined  to  be  a  contraction,  or  motion,  or  configuration  of  the  fibres, 
"  which  constitute  the  immediate  organ  of  sense;" — (Zoonomia, 
Vol.  I.  p.  11,  3d  edit.)  and,  in  an  addmdum  to  the  same  volume,  he 
compares  "  the  universal  prepossession,  that  ideas  are  immaterial 
"  beings,  to  the  stories  of  ghosts  and  apparitions,  which  have  so  long 
"  amused  the  credulous,  without  any  foundation  in  nature." — (Ibid. 
p.  5  13.)  I  hope  it  is  almost  superfluous  for  me  now  to  repeat,  that, 
according  to  the  view  of  the  subject  which  I  have  taken,  I  do  not 
ascribe  to  ideas  any  objective  existence^  either  as  things  material  or 
as  things  immaterial.,  and  that  I  use  this  word  merely  as  synonymous 
with  notion  or  thought. 


176  ON  THE  METAPHYSICAL  THEORIES  OF        [Essay  FV. 

Cartes,  and  by  Locke,  it  was  meant  by  them  to  be  under- 
stood only  as  a  figure  or  metaphor.  They  have  accor- 
dingly substituted  instead  of  it,  the  supposition,  that  the 
immediate  objects  of  thought  are  either  particles  of  the 
medullary  substance  of  the  brain,  or  vibrations  of  these 
particles, — a  supposition  which,  according  to  my  appre- 
hension of  it,  is  infinitely  more  repugnant  to  common 
sense,  than  the  more  enigmatical  and  oracular  language 
transmitted  to  us  from  the  dark  ages; — while,  with  all  its 
mechanical  apparatus,  it  does  not  even  touch  that  diffi- 
culty concerning  the  origin  of  our  knowledge,  of  which 
the  images  and  species  of  the  schoolmen  sufficiently  shew, 
that  these  subtile  disputants  were  not  altogether  unaware. 

Notwithstanding  the  celebrity  of  the  names  which,  in 
the  southern  part  of  Great  Britain,  have  lent  their  credit  to 
this  very  bold  hypothesis,  I  cannot  bring  myself  to  ex- 
amine it  seriously;  recollecting  the  ridicule  which  Seneca 
has  incurred,  by  the  gravity  of  his  reply  to  some  of  his 
stoical  predecessors,  who  maintained,  that  the  cardinal 
virtues  are  animals.  Wild  and  incredible  as  this  ancient 
absurdity  may  at  first  appear,  it  will  be  found,  upon  ex- 
amination, to  be  fully  as  reasonable  as  various  tenets  which 
have  obtained  the  suffiages  of  the  learned  in  our  own 
times. 

I  have  only  to  observe  farther  at  present,  with  respect 
to  the  doctrine  of  the  materiality  of  our  ideas,  that  it  has 
by  no  means  the  merit  of  so  much  originality,  even  in  the 
history  of  our  domestic  literature,  as  was  probably  believ- 
ed by  some  of  its  late  revivers.  It  appears,  from  various 
passages  in  his  works,  to  have  been  the  decided  opinion 
of  Sir  Kenelm  Di^by;  and  it  is  enlarged  upon  and  deve- 
Joped  at  some  length,  (though  evidently  without  any  wish 


Essay  IV.]  HARTLEY,  PRIESTLEY,  AND  DARWIN.  177 

on  the  part  of  the  author,  to  materialize  the  mind  itself,) 
in  a  posthumous  volume  of  the  celebrated  Dr.  Hooke. 
The  following  extract  from  this  last  publication,  which 
is  now  but  rarely  to  be  met  with,  I  cannot  forbear  to  in- 
troduce here,  as  an  interesting  fragment  of  this  sort  of 
fih^siologico-metaphi/sical  s-pecu\ixiion;  and  I  may  venture 
to  assert,  that  the  hypothesis  which  it  takes  for  granted 
is  not  inferior,  either  in  point  of  ingenuity,  or  in  the  cer- 
tainty of  the  data  on  which  it  proceeds,  to  that  of  any  one 
of  the  three  noted  theorists  referred  to  above. 

"  Memory,"  (says  Hooke)  "  I  conceive  to  be  nothing 
"  else  but  a  repository  of  ideas^  formed  partly  from  the 
"  senses,  but  chiefly  by  the  soul  itself.  I  say  partly  by 
*'  the  senses,  because  they  are,  as  it  were,  the  collectors 
^'  or  carriers  of  the  impressions  made  by  objects  from 
"  without;  delivering  them  to  the  repository,  or  store- 
"  house,  where  they  are  to  be  used.  This  repository  I 
*'  conceive  to  be  seated  in  the  brain;  and  the  substance 
"  thereof  I  conceive  to  be  the  material  owi  of  which  these 
"  ideas  are  formed,  and  where  they  are  also  preserved, 
*'  when  formed,  being  disposed  in  some  regular  order; 
"  which  order  I  conceive  to  be  principally  that  according 
"  to  which  they  are  formed;  that  being  first  in  order  th^t 
"  is  first  formed,  and  that  next  which  is  next;  and  so  on 
"  continually  by  succession,  from  the  time  of  our  birth  to 
"  the  time  of  our  death.  So  that  there  is,  as  it  were  a  con- 
"  tinned  chain  of  ideas  coiled  up  in  the  repository  of  the 
'*  brain,  the  first  erid  of  which  is  farthest  removed  from 
*•  the  centre,  or  seat  of  the  soul,  where  the  ideas  are  form- 
"  ed,  and  the  other  end  is  always  at  the  centre,  being 
*'  the  last  idea  formed,  which  is  always  the  moment  pre- 

"  sent  when  considered.  And  therefore,  according  as  there 

Z 


178  ON  THE  METAPHYSICAL  THEORIES  OF        [Essay  IV. 

"  are  a  greater  number  of  these  ideas  between  the  present 
"  sensation  or  thought  in  the  centre,  and  any  other,  the 
*'  more  is  the  soul  apprehensive  of  the  time  interposed." 
To  those  who  are  acquainted  with  the  strong  bent  of 
Hooke's  genius  towards  mcclianics,  and  who  recollect 
that,  from  his  childhood,  the  art  o{  ivatch-making  vfds  on^ 
of  his  favourite  studies,*  it  may  be  amusing  to  combine, 
with  the  foregoing  extract,  a  remark  which  occurs  more 
than  once  in  the  works  of  Lord  Bacon:  "  When  men  of 
"  confined  scientific  pursuits  afterwards  betake  themselves 
"  to  philosophy,  and  to  general  contemplations,  they  are 
"  apt  to  wrest  and  corrupt  them  with  their  former  con- 
"  ceits." — Nor  is  Hooke  the  only  writer  of  note,  since  Ba- 
con's time,  who  has  exemplified  the  truth  of  this  maxim. 
Another  illustration  of  it,  still  more  closely  connected  with 
the  subject  of  this  Essay,  occurs  in  a  profound  mathema- 
tical work  (entitled  Harmonics)  by  Dr.  Smith  of  Cam- 
bridge. I  shall  quote  the  passage  I  allude  to,  in  the  au- 
thor's words,  as  it  contains  (independently  of  its  reference 
to  my  present  purpose)  a  curious  hint  towards  a  physio- 
logical theory  of  the  mind,  founded  on  the  very  same 
hypothesis  which  was  afterwards  adopted  by  Hartley. — 
"  With  a  view  to  some  other  inquiries,  I  will  conclude 
"  with  the  following  observations:  That,  as  almost  all 
"  sorts  of  substances  are  perpetually  subject  to  very  mi- 
"nute  vibratory  motions,  and  all  our  senses  and  faculties 
*'  seem  chiefly  to  depend  upon  such  motions  excited  in 
"  the  proper  organs,  either  by  outward  objects,  or  the 
"  powers  of  the  will,  there  is  reason  to  expect,  that  the 
"  theory  of  vibrations  here  given,  will  not  prove  useless 

"■^  See  Uic  Account  of  liis  Life. 


Essay  IV.]  HARTLEY,  PRIESTLEY,  AND  DARWIN.  J  79 

"  in  promoting  the  philosophy  of  other  things  besides 
"musical  sounds."^ 

Among  modern  philosophers,  however,  I  am  acquaint- 
ed with  none  to  whom  Bacon's  aphorism  applies  with 
nearly  so  great  force,  as  to  the  ingenious  physician  whose 
hypothesis,  concerning  the  materiality  of  ideas,  has  led  me 
insensibly  into  these  reflections.  The  influence  of  his  me- 
dical occupations  on  his  habits  of  thinking,  may  be  traced 
in  almost  every  page  of  his  works,  both  philosophical  and 
poetical; — not  only  in  the  physiological  language  in  which 
he  uniformly  describes  our  mental  operations,  but  even 
in  his  detached  theories  upon  the  various  incidental  ques- 
tions which  he  has  started.  It  is  sufficient  for  me  to  men- 
tion, as  instances,  his  account  of  the  mechanical  process 
by  which  the  human  countenance  is  first  moulded  into  a 
smile; — and  his  theory  of  beautiful  forms,  deduced  from 
the  pleasurable  sensations,  associated  by  an  infant  with 
the  bosom  of  its  nurse.  The  enthusiastic  praise  which 
he  bestows  on  a  conjecture  of  Mr.  Hume's,  that  "  the 
"  world  may  possibly  have  been  generated  rather  than 
"  created,"!  is  perhaps  explicable,  in  part,  on  the  same 
principle. 

The  propensity  which  all  men  have  to  explain  the  intel- 
lectual phenomena,  by  analogies  borrowed  from  the  ma- 
terial world,  has  its  origin  in  an  error,  differing  from  that 
which  misled  Hooke  and  Darwin,  only  in  this,  that  the 
latter,  being  the  natural  result  of  the  favourite,  or  of  the 
professional  habits  of  the  individual,  assumes  as  many  dif- 
ferent shapes  as  the  pursuits  of  mankind;  whereas  the  for- 

*  See  Harmonics^  printed  at  Cambridge  in  1749.  The  Preface  is 
dated  in  1748. 

t  See  Zoonomia,  Vol.  II.  p.  247,  3d  edit. 


180  ON"  THE  JIETAPHYSfCAL  THEORIES,  fcic.       XEseaj^IV. 

mer,  having  i^s  root  in  the  common  principles  and  com- 
mon  circumstances  of  the  human  race,  may  be  expected 
to  exert  its  influence  on  the  theories  of  philosophers,  in 
every  country,  and  in  every  age.  The  one  prejudice  would 
have  been  classed  by  Bacon  with  the  idola  specus;  the 
other,  with  the  ido/a  tribiis. 

But  I  must  not  enlarge  farther  on  systems  which,  what- 
ever may  have  been  the  views  of  their  authors,  have  ob- 
viously no  logical  connection  with  the  problem  relating 
to  the  sources  of  our  ideas;  a  problem  which  (as  I  have 
repeatedly  observed)  is  to  be  solved,  not  by  any  hypothe- 
sis concerning  the  nature  of  mind,  but  by  an  appeal  to  the 
phenomena  of  thought,  and  by  an  accurate  analysis  of  the 
objects  of  our  knowledge. — On  these  grounds,  our  atten- 
tion is  naturally  attracted  to  a  new  and  very  interesting 
class  of  facts,  which  have  been  accumulated,  of  late,  with 
extraordinary  industr}^  as  an  inductive  demonstration  of 
the  justness  of  those  principles  which  I  have  been  endea- 
vouring to  controvert;  and  which  have  been  recommend- 
ed to  public  notice,  (in  one  instance,  at  least,)  by  a  much 
more  splendid  display  of  learning  and  genius,  than  has 
been  yet  exhibited  by  any  of  our  metaphysical  physio- 
logists. I  allude  to  the  philological  researches  of  Mr.  Home 
Tooke. 

Before,  however,  I  enter  upon  any  discussions  con- 
cerning the  inferences  which  these  researches  have  been 
supposed  to  authorize,  it  is  necessary  for  me  to  take  a 
pretty  wide  compass,  by  premising  some  general  observa- 
tions; the  scope  of  which  I  am  afraid  it  may  be  difficult 
for  my  readers,  at  first  view,  to  connect  with  the  inqui- 
ries in  which  we  have  been  hitherto  engaged.  1  shall 
state,  therefore,  the  wh'ole  of  my  argument  at  once,  as 
clearly  and  fully  as  I  can,  in  a  separate  Essay. 


ESSAY  FIFTH. 

ON  THE  TENDENCY  OF   SOME  LATE  PHILOLOGICAL. 
SPECULATIONS. 


CHAPTER  FIRST. 

In  carrying  back  our  thoughts  to  the  infancy  of  a  cultivat- 
ed language,  a  difficulty  occurs,  which,  howev.er  obviously 
it  may  seem  to  present  itself,  I  do  not  recollect  to  have 
seen  taken  notice  of  by  any  writer  on  the  human  mind; 
and  which,  as  it  leads  the  attention  to  various  questions 
closely  connected  with  the  main  design  of  this  volume, 
as  well  as  with  the  particular  discussion  which  has  been 
last  under  our  review,  I  shall  point  out  and  illustrate  at 
some  length. 

In  the  case  of  objects  which  fall  under  the  cognizance 
of  any  of  our  external  senses,  it  is  easy  to  conceive  the 
origin  of  the  diffi^rent  classes  of  words  composing  a  con- 
ventional dialect;  to  conceive,  for  example,  that  two  sa- 
vages should  agree  to  call  this  animal  a  Horse^  and  that 
tree  an  Oak.  But,  in  words  relating  to  things  intellectual 
and  moral,  in  what  manner  was  the  conventional  connec- 
tion at  first  established  between  the  sign  and  the  thing 
signified?  In  wiiat  manner  (to  take  one  of  the  simplest 
instances)  was  it  settled,  that  the  name  of  imagination 
should  be  given  to  one  operation  of  the  mind;  that  of  re- 


182  ON  THE  TENDENCY  OF  SOME  L\TE  [Essay  V. 

collection  to  a  second;  that  of  deliberatiojt  to  a  third;  that 
of  sagacity,  or  foresight,  to  a  fourth?  Or,  supposing  the 
use  of  these  words  to  be  once  introduced,  how  was  their 
meaning  to  be  explained  to  a  novice,  altogether  unaccus- 
tomed to  think  upon  such  subjects? 

1.  In  answer  to  this  question,  it  is  to  be  observed,  in 
the  first  place,  that  the  meaning  of  many  words,  of  which 
it  is  impossible  to  exhibit  any  sensible  prototypes,  is  grad- 
ually collected  by  a  species  of  induction,  which  is  more 
or  less  successfully  conducted  by  different  individuals, 
according  to  the  degree  of  their  attention  and  judgment. 
The  connection  in  which  an  unknown  term  stands  in  re- 
lation to  the  other  words  combined. with  it  in  the  same 
sentence,  often  affords  a  key  for  its  explanation  in  that 
particular  instance;  and,  in  proportion  as  such  instances 
are  multiplied  in  the  writings  and  conversation  of  men 
well  acquainted  with  propriety  of  speech,  the  means  are 
afforded  of  a  progressive  approximation  towards  its  pre- 
cise import.  A  familiar  illustration  of  this  process  pre- 
sents itself  in  the  expedient  which  a  reader  naturally  em- 
ploys for  decyphering  the  meaning  of  an  unknown  word 
in  a  foreign  language,  when  he  happens  not  to  have  a  dic- 
tionary at  hand.  The  first  sentence  where  the  word  oc- 
curs, affords,  it  is  probable,  sufficient  foundation  for  a 
vague  conjecture  concerning  the  notion  annexed  to  it  by 
the  author; — some  idea  or  other  being  necessarily  substi- 
tuted in  its  place,  in  order  to  make  the  passage  at  all  in- 
telligible. The  next  sentence  where  it  is  involved,  ren- 
ders this  conjecture  a  little  more  definite;  a  third  sentence 
contracts  the  field  of  doubt  within  still  narrower  limits; 
till,  at  length,  a  more  extensive  induction  fixes  com- 
pletely the  signification  \ve  are  in  quest  of.   There  can- 


Chap.  I]  PHILOLOGICAL  SPECULATIONS.  183 

not  be  a  doubt,  I  apprehend,  that  it  is  in  some  such  way 
as  this,  that  children  slowly  and  imperceptibly  enter  into 
the  abstract  and  complex  notions  annexed  to  numberless 
words  in  their  mother  tongue,  of  which  we  should  find 
it  difficult  or  impossible  to  convey  the  sense  by  formal 
definitions.* 

2.  The  strong  tendency  of  the  mind  to  express  itself 
metaphorically,  or  analogically,  on  all  abstract  subjects, 
supplies  another  help  lo  facilitate  the  acquisition  of  lan- 
guage. The  prevalence  of  this  tendency  among  rude  na- 
tions has  been  often  remarked;  and  has  been  commonly 
accounted  for,  partly  from  the  warmth  of  imagination 
supposed  to  be  peculiarly  characteristical  of  savages,  and 
partly  from  the  imperfections  of  their  scanty  vocabularies. 
The  truth,  however,  is,  that  the  same  disposition  is  ex- 
hibited by  man  in  every  stage  of  his  progress;  prompting 
him  uniformly,  whenever  the  enlargement  of  his  know- 
ledge requires  the  use  of  a  new  word  for  the  communi- 
cation of  his  meaning,  instead  of  coining  at  once  a  sound 
altogether  arbitrary,  to  assist,  as  far  as  possible,  the  ap- 
prehension of  his  hearers,  either  by  the  happy  employment 
of  some  old  word  in  a  metaphorical  sense,  or  by  grafting 
etymologically  on  some  well  known  stock,  a  new  deriva- 
tive, significant,  to  his  own  fancy,  of  the  thought  he  wishes 
to  impart. 

To  this  bias  of  the  mind  to  enrich  language,  rather  by 
a  modification  of  old  materials,  than  by  the  creation  of 

*  Hence  the  logical  utility  of  metaphysical  pursuits  in  training  the 
mind  to  these  inductive  processes,  so  essentially  coiinected  with 
precision  in  the  use  of  language,  and,  of  conhequence,  witli  accuracy 
of  reasoning,  in  all  the  various  employments  of  the  intellectual 
powers. 


184  ON  THE  TENDENCY  OF  SOME  LATB  [Essay  V. 

new  ones,  it  is  owing  that  the  number  of  primitive  or  r^  , 
dical  words,  in  a  cultivated  tongue,  bears  so  small  a  pro- 
portion to  the  whole  amount  of  its  vocabulary.  In  an 
original  language,  such  as  the  Greek,  the  truth  of  this 
remark  may  be  easily  verified;  and,  accordingly,  it  is 
asserted  by  Mr.  Smith,  that  the  number  of  its  primitives 
does  not  exceed  three  hundred.*  In  the  compounded  lan- 
guages now  spoken  in  Europe,  it  is  a  much  more  diffi- 
cult task  to  establish  the  fact;  but  an  irresistible  presump- 
tion in  its  favour  arises  from  this  circumstance,  That  all 
who  have  turned  their  attention  of  late,  in  this  island,  to 
the  study  cf  etymology,  are  impressed  with  a  deep  and 
increasing  conviction,  founded  on  the  discoveries  which 
have  been  already  made,  that  this  branch  of  learning  is  still 
in  its  infancy;  and  that  the  roots  of  an  immense  variety  of 
words,  commonly  supposed  to  be  genuine  radicals^  may 
be  traced,  in  a  satisfactory  manner,  to  the  Saxon  or  to  the 
Icelandic.  The  delight  which  all  men,  however  unlettered, 
take  in  indulging  their  crude  conjectures  on  the  etymolo- 
gical questions  which  are  occasionally  started  in  conversa- 
tion, is  founded  on  the  same  circumstance; — their  experi- 
mental knowledge  of  the  difficulty  of  introducing  into 
popular  speech  a  new  sound,  entirely  arbitrary  in  its 
selection,  and  coined  out  of  materials  unemployed  before. 
Another  illustration  of  this  occurs  in  the  reluctance  with 
which  we  adopt  the  idiomatical  turns  of  expression  in  a 
foreign  tongue,  or  even  the  cant  words  and  phrases  which, 
from  time  to  time,  are  springing  up  in  our  own,  till  we 
have  succeeded  in  forming  some  theory  or  conjecture  to 

*  See  the  Dissertation  on  Language,  annexed  to  the  Theory  of 
Moral  Sentiments. 

2 


Chap.  I.]  PHILOLOGICAL  SPECULATIONS.  185 

reconcile  the  apparent  anomaly  with  the  ordinary  laws  of 
^luman  thought. 

The  view  of  the  subject,  however,  to  which  I  must  con- 
fine myself  in  this  Essay,  has  a  reference  to  those  words 
alone  which,  in  the  progress  of  philosophical  refinement, 
are  introduced  to  express  abstract  and  complex  notions, 
or  to  characterize  the  faculties  and  operations  of  the  think- 
ing and  sentient  principle  within  us.  That  such  words 
should  all  be  borrowed  from  things  sensible  and  familiar, 
was  not  only  the  natural  consequence  of  our  perceptive 
powers  having  been  long  and  incessantly  exercised,  before 
reflection  began  to  awaken  to  its  appropriate  objects,  but 
was  an  expedient  indispensably  necessary  towards  a  suc- 
cessful communication  of  the  thoughts  which  were  to  be 
conveyed.  This  last  remark,  which  I  have  already  slightly 
hinted  at,  and  which  led  me  into  the  short  digression 
which  has,  for  a  few  moments,  diverted  my  attention  to 
some  collateral  topics,  will  require  a  more  ample  illustra- 
tion. 

I  have  stated  the  difficulty  attending  the  origin  of  words 
expressive  of  things  which  do  not  fall  under  the  cogni- 
zance of  any  of  our  senses;  and  I  have  also  remarked  the 
disposition  of  the  mind,  on  such  occasions,  to  have  re- 
course to  metaphors  borrowed  from  the  material  world. 
It  is  in  this  proneness  of  the  fancy  to  employ  analogical 
language,  in  order  to  express  notions  purely  intellectual, 
that  a  provision  seems  to  have  been  made  by  nature,  for 
an  intercourse  between  different  minds,  concerning  things 
abstracted  from  matter;  inasmuch  as  the  very  same  cir- 
cumstances which  open  an  easier  vent  to  the  utterance  of 
the  speaker,  must  necessarily  contribute  powerfully  (by 
what  Lord  Bacon  would  have  called  the  abscissio  injiniti) 

2  A 


186  ON  THE  TENDENCY  OF  SOME  LATE  [Essay  \. 

to  assist  and  prompt  the  apprehension  of  the  hearer.  The 
moment  that  the  terms  attention^  imagination^  abstractioUf 
sagacity,  foresight,  penetration,  acuteness,  inclination, 
aversioji,  deliberation,  are  pronounced,  a  great  step  to- 
wards their  interpretation  is  made  in  the  mind  of  every 
person  of  common  understanding;  and  although  this  ana- 
logical reference  to  the  material  world  adds  greatly  to  the 
difficulty  of  analyzing,  with  philosophical  rigour,  the  va- 
rious faculties  and  principles  of  our  nature,  yet  it  cannot 
be  denied,  that  it  facilitates,  to  a  wonderful  degree,  the 
mutual  communications  of  mankind  concerning  them,  in 
so  far  as  such  communications  are  necessary  in  the  ordi- 
nary business  of  life.  Even  to  the  philosopher  himself,  it 
is  probably,  in  the  first  instance,  indispensably  requisite, 
as  a  preparation  for  a  more  accurate  survey  of  the  mind. 
It  serves,  at  least,  to  circumscribe  the  field  of  his  atten- 
tion within  such  narrow  limits,  as  may  enable  him,  with 
greater  ease,  to  subject  it  to  the  examination  of  the  pow- 
er of  rejlection;  and,  in  this  Avay,  renders  fancy  subser- 
vient to  the  ultimate  correction  of  her  own  illusions. 

And  here,  I  cannot  help  pausing  a  little,  to  remark 
how  much  more  imperfect  language  is,  than  is  commonly 
supposed,  when  considered  as  an  organ  of  mental  inter- 
course. We  speak  of  communicating,  by  means  of  words, 
our  ideas  and  our  feelings  to  others;  and  we  seldom  re- 
flect sufficiently  on  the  latitude  with  which  this  meta- 
phorical phrase  ought  to  be  understood.^'  The  truth  is, 
that,  even  in  conversing  on  the  plainest  and  niost  familiar 
subjects,  however  full  and  circumstantial  our  statements 
may  be,  the  words  which  we  employ,  if  examined  with 

*  Philosophy  of  the  Human  Mind,  pp.  495,  496,  3d  edit. 


Chap.  I.]  PHILOLOGICAL  SPECULATIONS.  187 

accuracy,  will  be  found  to  do  nothing  more,  than  to  sug- 
gest hints  to  our  hearers,  leaving  by  far  the  principal  part 
of  the  process  of  interpretation,  to  be  performed  by  the 
mind  itself.  In  this  respect,  the  effect  of  -words  bears  some 
resemblance  to  the  stimulus  given  to  the  memory  and 
imagination,  by  an  outline  or  a  shadow,  exhibiting  the 
profile  of  a  countenance  familiar  to  the  senses.  The  most 
minute  narratives  accordingly,  are  by  no  means,  in  every 
instance,  the  most  intelligible  and  satisfactory;  as  the  most 
faithful  copies  after  nature  do  not  always  form  the  best 
portraits.  In  both  cases,  the  skill  of  the  artist  consists  in 
a  happy  selection  of  particulars  which  are  expressive  or 
signijicant. 

"  Language,"  it  is  commonly  said,  "  is  the  express  im- 
"  age  of  thought;" — and  that  it  may  be  said,  with  suffi- 
cient propriety  to  be  so,  I  do  not  dispute,  when  the  mean- 
ing of  the  proposition  is  fully  explained.  The  mode  of 
expression,  however,  it  ought  to  be  remembered,  is  figu- 
rative; and,  therefore,  when  the  proposition  is  assumed 
as  a  principle  of  reasoning,  it  must  not  be  rigorously  or 
literally  interpreted.  This  has  too  often  been  overlook- 
ed by  writers  on  the  human  mind.  Even  Dr.  Reid  him- 
self, cautious  as  he  is  in  general,  with  respect  to  the 
ground  on  which  he  is  to  build,  has  repeatedly  appealed 
to  this  maxim,  without  any  qualification  whatsoever;  and, 
by  thus  adopting  it,  agreeably  to  its  letter,  rather  than  to 
its  spirit,  has  been  led,  in  various  instances,  to  lay  great- 
er stress  on  the  structure  of  speech,  than  (in  my  opinion) 
it  can  always  bear  in  a  philosophical  argument. 

As  a  necessary  consequence  of  this  assumption,  it  has 
been,  not  unnaturally,  inferred  by  logicians,  that  every 
word,  which  is  not  wholly  useless  in  the  vocabulary,  is 


188  ON  THi:  TENDENCY  OF  SOME  LATE  [Essay  V. 

the  sign  of  an  idea;  and  that  these  ideas  (which  the  com- 
mon systems  lead  us  to  consider  as  the  representatives  of 
things,)  ^rc  the  immediate  instruments,  or  (if  I  may  be 
allowed  such  a  phrase,)  the  intellectual  tools  with  which  the 
mind  carries  on  the  operation  of  thinking.  In  reading,  for 
example,  the  enunciation  of  a  proposition,  we  are  apt  to 
fancy,  that  for  every  word  contained  in  it,  there  is  an  idea 
presented  to  the  understanding;  from  the  combination 
and  comparison  of  which  ideas ^  results  that  act  of  the 
mind  c^Wzd  judgment.  So  diftbrent  is  all  this  from  the  fact, 
that  our  words,  when  examined  separately,  are  often  as 
completely  insignificant  as  the  letters  of  which  they  are 
composed;  deriving  their  meaning  solely  from  the  con- 
nection, or  relation,  in  which  they  stand  to  others.  Of  this 
a  very  obvious  example  occurs,  in  the  case  of  terms  ^vhich 
have  a  variety  of  acceptations,  and  of  which  the  import, 
in  every  particular  application,  must  be  collected  from  the 
whole  sentence  of  which  they  form  a  part.  When  I  con- 
sult Johnson's  Dictionary,  I  find  many  words  of  which  he 
has  enumerated  forty,  fifty,  or  even  sixty  different  signi- 
fications; and,  after  all  the  pains  he  has  taken  to  distin- 
guish these  from  each  other,  I  am  frequently  at  a  loss  how 
to  avail  myself  of  his  definitions.  Yet,  when  a  word  of 
this  kind  occurs  to  me  in  a  book,  or  even  when  I  hear  it 
pronounced  in  the  rapidity  oivivd  voce  discourse,  I  at  once 
select,  without  the  slightest  effort  of  conscious  thought, 
the  precise  meaning  which  it  was  intended  to  convey. 
How  is  this  to  be  explained  but  by  the  light  thrown  upon 
the  problematical  term  by  the  general  import  of  the  sen- 
tence?— a  species  of  interpretation  easily  conceivable, 
where  I  have  leisure  to  study  the  context  deliberately; 
but  which,  in  the  circumstances  I  have  now  supposed, 


Chap.  1 3  PHILOLOGICAL  SPECULATIONS.  189 

implies  a  quickness  in  the  exercise  of  the  intellectual 
powers,  which,  the  more  it  is  examined,  will  appear  the 
more  astonishing.  It  is  constant  habit  alone,  that  keeps 
these  intellectual  processes  out  of  view; — giving  to  the 
mind  such  a  celerity  in  its  operations,  as  eludes  the  ut- 
most vigilance  of  our  attention;  and  exhibiting,  to  the 
eyes  of  common  observers,  the  use  of  speech,  as  a  much 
simpler,  and  less  curious  phenomenon,  than  it  is  in  reality. 

A  still  more  palpable  illustration  of  the  same  remark 
presents  itself,  when  the  language  we  listen  to  admits  of 
such  transpositions  in  the  arrangement  of  words,  as  are 
familiar  to  us  in  the  Latin.  In  such  cases,  the  artificial 
structure  of  the  discourse  suspends,  in  a  great  measure, 
our  conjectures  about  the  sense,  till,  at  the  close  of  the 
period,  the  verb,  in  the  very  instant  of  its  utterance,  un- 
riddles the  (snigma.  Previous  to  this,  the  former  words 
and  phrases  resemble  those  detached  and  unmeaning 
patches  of  diflPerent  colours,  which  compose  what  opti- 
cians call  an  anamorphosis;  while  the  effect  of  the  verb^  at 
the  end,  may  be  compared  to  that  of  the  mirror  by  which 
the  anamorphosis  is  reformed^  and  which  combines  these 
apparently  fortuitous  materials  into  a  beautiful  portrait  or 
landscape. 

In  instances  of  this  sort,  it  will  be  generally  found,  upon 
an  accurate  examination,  that  the  intellectual  act,  as  far  as 
we  are  able  to  trace  it,  is  altogether  simple,  and  incapable 
of  analysis;  and  that  the  elements  into  which  we  flatter 
ourselves  we  have  resolved  it,  are  nothing  more  than  the 
grammatical  elements  of  speech; — the  logical  doctrine 
about  the  comparison  of  ideas  bearing  a  much  closer  affi- 
nity to  the  task  of  a  schoolboy  in  parsing  his  lesson,  than 


190  ON  THE  TENDENCY  OF  SOME  LATE  [Essay  V 

to  the  researches  of  philosophers,  able  to  form  a  just  con- 
ception of  the  mystery  to  be  explained. 

These  observations  are  general,  and  apply  to  every  case 
in  which  language  is  employed.  When  the  subject,  how- 
ever, to  which  it  relates,  involves  notions  which  are  ab- 
stract and  complex,  the  process  of  interpretation  becomes 
much  more  complicated  and  curious;  involving,  at  every 
step,  that  species  of  mental  induction  which  I  have  already 
endeavoured  to  describe.  In  reading,  accordingly,  the  most 
perspicuous  discussions,  in  which  such  notions  form  the 
subject  of  the  argument,  little  instruction  is  received,  till 
we  have  made  the  reasonings  our  ow7iy  by  revolving  the 
steps  again  and  again  in  our  thoughts.  The  fact  is,  that, 
in  cases  of  this  sort,  the  function  of  language  is  not  so 
much  to  convey  knowledge  (according  to  the  common 
phrase)  from  one  mind  to  another;  as  to  bring  two  minds 
into  the  same  train  of  thinking;  and  to  confine  them,  as 
nearly  as  possible,  to  the  same  track. — Many  authors 
have  spoken  of  the  wonderful  mechanism  of  speech;  but 
none  has  hitherto  attended  to  the  far  more  wonderful 
mechanism  which  it  puts  into  action  behind  the  scene. 

The  speculations  of  Mr.  Home  Tooke,  (whatever  the 
conclusions  were  to  which  he  meant  them  to  be  subser- 
vient) afford,  in  every  page,  illustrations  of  these  hints,  by 
shewing  how  imperfect  and  disjointed  a  thing  speech  was 
in  its  infant  state,  prior  to  the  development  of  those  va- 
rious component  parts^  which  now  appear  to  be  essential 
to  its  existence.  But  on  this  particular  view  of  the  sub- 
ject I  do  not  mean  to  enlarge  at  present. 


Chap.  11]  PHILOLOGICAL  SPECULATIONS-  191 


CHAPTER  SECOND. 

If  the  different  considerations,  stated  in  the  preceding 
chapter,  be  carefully  combined  together,  it  will  not  appear 
surprizing,  that,  in  the  judgment  of  a  great  majority  of 
individuals,  the  common  analogical  phraseology  concern- 
ing the  mind  should  be  mistaken  for  its  genuine  philoso- 
phical theory.  It  is  only  by  the  patient  and  persevering  ex- 
ercise of  reflection  on  the  subjects  of  consciousness,  that 
this  popular  prejudice  can  be  gradually  surmounted.  In 
proportion  as  the  thing  typified  grows  familiar  to  the 
thoughts,  the  metaphor  will  lose  its  influence  on  the  fancy; 
and  while  the  signs  we  employ  continue  to  discover,  by 
their  etymology,  their  historical  origin,  they  will  be  ren- 
dered, by  long  and  accurate  use,  virtually  equivalent  to 
literal  and  specific  appellations.  A  thousand  instances,  per- 
fectly analogous  to  this,  might  be  easily  produced  from 
the  figurative  words  and  phrases  which  occur  every  mo- 
ment in  ordinary  conversation.  They  who  are  acquainted 
with  Warburtpn's  account  of  the  natural  progress  of  writ- 
ing, from  hieroglyphics  to  apparently  arbitrary  characters, 
cannot  fail  to  be  struck  with  the  similarity  between  the 
history  of  this  art,  as  traced  by  him,  and  the  gradual  process 
by  which  metaphorical  terms  come  to  be  stripped  of  that 
literal  import,  which,  at  first,  pointed  them  out  to  the  se- 
lection of  our  rude  progenitors.  Till  this  process  be  com- 
pleted, with  respect  to  the  words  denoting  the  powers 
and  operations  of  the  understanding,  it  is  vain  for  us  to  ex- 


192  ON  THE  TENDENCY  OF  SOME  LATE  [Essay  V. 

pect  any  success  in  our  inductive  researches  concerning 
the  principles  of  the  human  frame. 

In  thus  objecting  to  metaphorical  expressions,  as  solid 
data  for  our  conclusions  in  the  science  of  mind,  I  would 
not  be  understood  to  represent  them  as  of  no  use  to  the 
speculative  inquirer.  To  those  Vfho  delight  to  trace  the 
history  of  language,  it  may,  undoubtedly,  form  an  inte- 
resting, and  not  unprofitable  employment,  to  examine  the 
circumstances  by  which  they  were  originally  suggested, 
and  the  causes  which  may  have  diversified  them  in  the 
case  of  difi^erent  nations.  To  the  philologer  it  may  also 
afford  an  amusing  and  harmless  gratification,  (by  tracing, 
to  their  unknown  roots,  in  some  obscure  and  remote  dia- 
lects, those  words  which,  in  his  mother  tongue,  generally 
pass  for  primitives,)  to  shew,  that  even  the  terms  which  de- 
note our  most  refined  and  abstracted  thoughts,  were  bor- 
rowed originally  from  some  object  of  external  perception. 
This,  indeed,  is  nothing  more  than  what  the  considera- 
tions, already  stated,  would  have  inclined  us  to  expect  a 
priori;  and  which,  how  much  soever  it  may  astonish  those 
who  have  been  accustomed  to  confine  their  studies  to 
grammar  alone,  must  strike  every  philosopher,  as  the  na 
tural  and  necessary  consequence  of  that  progressive  or 
der  in  which  the  mind  becomes  acquainted  with  the  dif- 
ferent objects  of  its  knowledge,  and  of  those  general  la\\ 
which  govern  human  thought  in  the  employment  of  arbi 
trary  signs.  While  the  philologer,  however,  is  engaged 
in  these  captivating  researches,  it  is  highly  necessary  to 
remind  him,  from  time  to  time,  that  his  discoveries  belong 
to  the  same  branch  of  literature  with  that  which  furnish- 
es a  large  proportion  of  the  materials  in  our  common  lex- 
icons and  etymological  dictionaries; — that  after  he  has 


Cliap.  II.]  PHILOLOGICAL  SPFXULATIONS.  193 

told  US,  (for  example)  that  imagination  is  borrowed  from 
an  optical  image^  and  acuteyiess  from  a  Latin  word,  de- 
noting the  sharpness  of  a  material  instrument,  we  are  no 
more  advanced  in  studying  the  theory  of  the  human  in- 
tellect, than  we  should  be  in  our  speculations  concerning 
the  functions  of  money,  or  the  political  effects  of  the  na- 
tional debt,  by  learning,  from  Latin  etymologists,  that 
the  word  pecunia^  and  the  phrase  as  aliemim  had  both  a 
reference,  in  their  first  origin,  to  certain  circumstances 
in  the  early  state  of  Roman  manners.* 

From  these  slight  hints,  considered  in  their  connection 
with  the  subject  which  introduced  them,  some  of  my  rea- 
ders must  have  anticipated  the  use  of  them  I  intend  to 
make,  in  prosecuting  the  argument  concerning  the  origin 
of  human  knowledge.  To  those,  however,  who  have  not 
read  Mr.  Tooke's  work,  or  who,  in  reading  it,  have  not 
been  aware  of  the  very  subtile  and  refined  train  of  think- 
ing which  latently  connects  his  seemingly  desultory  ety- 
mologies, it  may  be  useful  for  me  to  select  one  or  two  ex- 
amples, where  Mr.   Tooke  himself  has  been  at  pains  to 
illustrate  the  practical  application,  of  which  he  conceived 
his  discoveries  to  be  susceptible,  to  philosophical  discus- 
sions.   This  is  the  more  necessary,  as,  in  general,  he 
seems  purposely  to  have  confined  himself  to  the  statement 
of  premises,  without  pointing  out  (except  by  implication 
or  innuendo)  the  purposes  to  which  he  means  them  to  be 
applied; — a  mode  of  writing,  I  must  beg  leave  to  observe, 
which,  by  throwing  an  air  of  mystery  over  his  real  design, 
and  by  amusing  the  imagination  with  the  prospect  of  some 
wonderful  secret  afterwards  to  be  revealed,  has  given  to 

*  See  Note  (O). 

2B 


194  ON  THE  TENDRNCY  OF  SOME  LATE  [Essay  V. 

his  truly  learned  and  original  disquisitions,  a  degree  of 
celebrity  among  the  smatterers  in  science,  which  they 
would  never  have  acquired,  if  stated  concisely  and  sys- 
tematically in  a  didactic  form. 

*' Right  is  no  other  than  rect-wwz,  frcgitumj  the 
''  past  participle  of  the  Latin  verb  regcre.  In  the  same 
*'  manner,  our  English  verb  just  is  the  past  participle  of 
"  the  verb  jiibere. 

"  Thus,  when  a  man  demands  his  right  he  asks  only 
"  that  which  it  is  ordered  he  shall  have. 

*'  A  RIGHT  conduct  is,  that  which  is  ordered. 

"A  RIGHT  reckoning  is,  that  which  is  ordered. 

"A  RIGHT  line  is,  that  which  is  ordered  or  directed — 
*'*  (not  a  random  extension,  but)  the  shortest  distance  bc- 
**  tween  two  points. 

"The  RIGHT  road  is,  that  ordered  or  directed  to  be 
"  pursued  (for  the  object  you  have  in  view.) 

*'  To  do  RIGHT  is,  to  do  that  which  is  ordered  to  be 
"  done.* 

*  The  application  of  the  same  word  to  denote  a  straight  line^  and 
moral  rectitude  of  conduct^  has  obtained  in  every  language  I  know; 
and  might,  I  think,  be  satisfactorily  explained,  without  founding 
the  theory  of  morality  upon  a  philological  nostrum  concerning  past 
Jiarticijiles.  The  following  passage  from  the  Ayeen  Akberry  (which 
must  recal  to  every  memory  the  line  of  Horace,  Scilicet  ut  possem 
curvo  dig7wscere  rectum)  deserves  to  be  quoted,  as  an  additional 
proof  of  the  universality  of  the  association  which  has  suggested  this 
metaphor. 

"  In  the  beginning  of  the  reign,  Mollana  Muksood,  seal  engraver, 
"  cut  on  steel,  in  the  Roka  character,  the  name  of  his  majesty,  with 
«  those  of  his  predecessors,  up  to  Timur;  and  after  that,  he  cut  ano- 
"  ther  in  the  Nustaleek  character,  with  his  majesty's  name  alone. 
"  For  every  thing  relative  to  petitions,  another  seal  was  made)  of  a 
'  semicircular  form.   On  one  side  was, 

"  Rectitude  is  the  means  of  pleasing  God: 
"  I  never  saw  any  one  lost  in  a  straight  road." 

Ayeen  Akberry,  Vol.  I.  p.  67. 


Chap.  II.]  PHILOLOGICAL  SPECULATIONS.  195 

"  To  be  in  the  right  is,  to  be  in  such  situations  or 
"  circumstances  as  are  ordered. 

"  To  have  right  or  law  on  one's  side  is,  to  have  in 
*'  one's  favour  that  which  is  ordered  or  laid  dow?j. 

*'  A  RIGHT  and  just  action  is,  such  a  one  as  is  ordered 
"  and  commanded. 

"A  JUST  man  is,  such  as  he  is  commanded  to  be — ^qui 
"  leges juraque  servat — who  observes  and  obeys  the  things 
'■'^  laid  down  and  commanded." 

"  It  appears  to  me  highly  improper  to  say,  that 


"  God  has  a  right,  as  it  is  also  to  say,  that  God  is  just. 
"  For  nothing  is  ordered^  directed,  or  comw.anded  concer- 
*'  ning  God.  The  expressions  are  inappHcable  to  the  De- 
*'  ity;  though  they  are  common,  and  those  who  Use  them 
'*  have  the  best  intentions.  They  are  apphcable  only  to 
"  men;  to  whom  alone  language  belongs,  and  of  whose 
*'  sensations  only  words  are  the  representatives  to  men, 
*'  who  are,  by  nature,  the  subjects  oi  orders  and  commands, 
*'  and  whose  chief  merit  is  obedience." 

In  reply  to  the  objection,  that,  according  to  this  doctrine, 
every  thing  that  is  ordered  and  commanded  is  right  and 
just,  Mr.  Tooke  not  only  admits  the  consequence,  but 
considers  it  as  an  identical  proposition. 

"  It  is  only  affirming"  (he  observes)  "  that  what  is  or- 
*'  dered  and  commanded  is — ordered  and  commanded.'''*^ 

With  regard  to  wrong,  he  observes  afterwards,  that 
*'  it  is  the  past  participle  of  the  verb  to  wring,  wringan, 

*  It  must  not,  however,  be  concluded  from  this  language,  that  Mr. 
Tooke  has  any  leaning  to  Hobbisra.  On  the  coutrary,  in  the  sequel 
of  the  discussion,  he  lays  great  stress  on  the  distuiction  between 
what  is  ordered  by  human  authority,  and  what  the  laws  of  our  nature 
teach  us  to  consider  as  ordered  by  God. 


196  ON  THE  TENDENCY  OF  SOME  LATE  [Essay  V, 

**  torquere.  The  word  answering  to  it  in  Italian  is  torto^ 
"  the  past  participle  of  the  verb  torquere;  whence  the 
"  French  also  have  tort.  It  means  merely  wrung,  or  wrest- 
"  ed  from  the  right,  or  ordered ,  line  of  conduct." 

Through  the  whole  of  this  passage,  Mr.  Tooke  evi- 
dently assumes,  as  a  principle,  that,  in  order  to  ascertain, 
with  precision,  the  philosophical  import  of  any  word,  it 
is  necessary  to  trace  its  progress  historically  through  all 
the  successive  meanings  which  it  has  been  employed  to 
convey,  from  the  moment  that  it  was  first  introduced  into 
our  language;  or  if  the  word  be  of  foreign  growth,  that 
we  should  prosecute  the  etymological  research,  till  we 
ascertain  the  literal  and  primitive  sense  of  the  root  from 
whence  it  sprung.  It  is  in  this  literal  and  primitiv^e  sense 
alone,  that,  according  to  him,  a  philosopher  is  entitled  to 
employ  it,  even  in  the  present  advanced  state  of  science; 
and  whenever  he  annexes  to  it  a  meaning  at  all  different, 
he  imposes  equally  on  himself  and  on  others.*  To  me, 
on  the  contrary,  it  appears,  that  to  appeal  to  etymology  in 
a  philosophical  argument,  (excepting,  perhaps,  in  those 
cases  where  the  word  itself  is  of  philosophical  origin)  is 
altogether  nugatory;  and  can  serve,  at  the  best,  to  throw 
an  amusing  light  on  the  laws  which  regulate  the  opera 

*  "  As  far  as  we  know  not  our  own  meaning;"  as  fur  "  as  our  pur- 
"  poses  are  not  endowed  with  words  to  make  them  known;"  so  far, 
"  we  gabble  like  things  most  brutish." — "  But  the  importance  rises 
"  higher,  when  we  reilect  upon  the  application  of  words  to  meta- 
"  physics.  And  when  I  say  mctafihysics,  ijou  ivill  be  fUeased  to  rc- 
"  member.)  that  all  general  reasojiing,  all  politics,  law,  morality,  and 
"  divinity,  are  merely  meta/ihysic."-—l'or  what  reason,  I  must  beg 
leave  to  ask,  has  Mr.  Tooke  omitted  mat/ie?natics  in  this  enumeration 
otthe  different  hvaivchcso^  metu/i/iysical  science?  Upon  his  own  prin- 
ciple, it  is  fully  as  well  entitled  to  a  place  as  any  of  the  others. — 
Diversions  of  Parley,  Part  ii.  p.  121. 


Chap.  U-l  PHILOLOGICAL  SPECULATIONS.  197 

tions  of  human  fancy.  In  the  present  instance,  Mr.  Tooke 
has  availed  himself  of  a  philological  hypothesis  (the  evi- 
dence of  which  is  far  from  being  incontrovertible)  to  de- 
cide, in  a  few  sentences,  and,  in  my  opinion,  to  decide 
very  erroneously,  one  of  the  most  important  questions 
connected  with  the  theory  of  morals. 

I  shall  only  mention  another  example,  in  which  Mr. 
Tooke  has  followed  out,  with  still  greater  intrepidity,  his 
general  principle  to  its  most  paradoxical  and  alarming 
consequences. 

"  True,  as  we  now  write  it;  or  trew,  as  it  was  for- 
"  merly  written;  means  simply  and  merely, — that  which 
"is  TROWED.  And  instead  of  being  a  rare  commodity 
"  upon  earth,  except  only  in  words,  there  is  nothing  but 
"  TRUTH  in  the  world. 

"  That  every  man,  in  his  communication  with  others, 
"should  speak  that  which  he  troweth,  is  of  so  great 
"  importance  to  mankind,  that  it  ought  not  to  surprise  us, 
"  if  we  find  the  most  extravagant  praises  bestowed  upon 
"  truth.  But  TRUTH  supposcs  mankind;  Jorw/io 772,  and 
"  bi/  whoTTiy  alone  the  word  is  formed,  and  to  whom  only 
"  it  is  applicable.  If  no  man,  no  truth.  There  is,  there- 
"  fore,  no  such  thing  as  eternal,  immutable,  everlasting 
"truth;  unless  mankind,  such  as  they  are  at  present,  be 
"  also  eternal,  immutable,  and  everlasting."* 

*  Mr.  Tooke  observes  immediately  afterwards,  that  "  the  Latin 
"vera*  also  means  trowed,  and  nothing  else."  In  proof  of  which 
he  reasons  thus:  "  Res^  a  thing,  gives  reor,  i.  e.  I  am  thing-ed; 
"  Fereor,  I  am  strongly  thing-ed;  for  ve,  in  Latin  composition,  means 
"  valdey  i.  e.  valide.  And  verua,  i.  e.  strongly  impressed  upon  the 
"  mind,  is  the  contracted  participle  of  vereor." 

It  was  not  without  some  cause  that  Mr.  Tooke's  fellow  dialogisi 
(whom  he  distinguishes  by  the  letter  F.),  ventured  to  exclaim,  on 
this  occasion;  "  lam  thinged!  Who  ever  used  such  language  before?" 


198  ON  THE  TENDENCY  OF  SOME  LA.TE  [Essay  V 

But  what  connection,  it  may  be  asked,  have  these  quo- 
tations with  the  question  about  the  origin  of  human  know- 
ledge? The  answer  will  appear  obvious  to  those  who 
have  looked  into  the  theories  which  have  been  built  on 
the  general  principle  just  referred  to; — a  principle  which 
it  seems  to  have  been  the  main  object  of  Mr.  Tooke's 
book  to  confirm,  by  an  induction  of  particulars;*  and 

*  I  think  it  proper  to  quote  here  a  few  sentences  from  Mr.  Tooke, 
in  confirmation  of  this  remark. 

"  Perhaps  it  was  for  mankind  a  lucky  mistake  (for  it  was  a  mis- 
'•'  take)  which  Mr.  Locke  made,  when  he  called  his  book  an  Essay 
"  on  Human  Understanding;  for  some  part  of  the  inestimable  benefit 
*'  of  that  book,  has,  merely  on  account  of  its  title,  reached  to  many 
"thousands  more  than,  I  fear,  it  would  have  done,  had  he  called  it 
•'  (what  it  is  merely)  a  grammatical  essay ^  or  a  treatise  on  words,  or  on 
"  language" 

— — "  It  may  appear  presumptuous,  but  it  is  necessary  here  to 
*•'  declare  my  opinion,  that  Mr.  Locke,  in  his  Essay,  never  did  ad- 
''  vance  one  step  beyond  the  origin  of  ideas,  and  the  composition  of 
"  terms." 

In  reply  to  this  and  some  other  observations  of  the  same  sort,  Mr. 
Tooke's  partner  in  the  dialogue  is  made  to  express  himself  thus: 

"  Perhaps  you  may  imagine,  that  if  Mr.  Locke  had  been  aware 
"that  he  was  only  writing  concerning  language,  he  might  have 
"  avoided  treating  of  the  origin  of  ideas;  and  to  have  escaped  the 
"  quantity  of  abuse  which  has  been  unjustly  poured  upon  him  for 
''  his  opinion  on  that  subject." 

Mr.  Tooke  answers:  "  No.  I  think  he  would  have  set  out  just  as  he 
"  did,  with  the  origin  of  ideas;  the  proper  starting-post  of  a  gramma- 
"  rian  who  is  to  treat  of  their  signs.  Nor  is  he  singular  in  referring 
"  them  all  to  the  senses;  and  in  beginning  an  account  of  language  in 
"  that  manner." 

To  this  last  sentence,  the  following  note  is  subjoined,  which  may 
serve  to  shew,  in  what  sense  Mr.  Tooke  understands  Locke's  doc- 
trine; and  that,  in  expounding  it,  so  far  from  availing  himself  of  the 
lights  struck  out  by  Locke's  successors,  he  has  preferred  the  dark 
comments  of  an  earlier  age. 

"  J\''ihil  in  intellectu  quod  non  firius  in  sensu,  is,  as  well  as  its  con- 
"  verse,  an  ancient  and  well  known  position. 

"  Sicut  in  speculo  ea  quae  videntur  non  sunt,  sed  eorum  sfiecies: 


Chap.  11.]  PHILOLOGICAL  SPECULATIONS.  199 

which,  if  it  were  admitted  as  sound,  would  completel}- 
undermine  the  foundations  both  of  logic  and  of  ethics. 
In  truth,  it  is  from  this  general  principle,  combined  with 
a  fact  universally  acknowledged  among  philosophers,  (the 
impossibility  of  speaking  about  mind  or  its  phenomena, 
without  employing  a  metaphorical  phraseology)  that  so 
many  of  our  late  philologists  and  grammarians,  dazzled, 
as  it  should  seem,  with  the  novelty  of  these  discoveries^ 
have  shewn  a  disposition  to  conclude,  (as  Diderot  and 
Helvetius  formerly  did  from  other  premises)  that  the  only 
real  knowledge  we  possess  relates  to  the  objects  of  our 
external  senses;  and  that  we  can  annex  no  idea  to  the  word 
mind  itself,  but  that  of  matter  in  the  most  subtile  and  at- 
tenuated form  which  imagination  can  lend  it. — Nor  are 
these  the  only,  or  the  most  dangerous  consequences,  in- 
volved in  Locke's  maxim,  when  thus  understood.  I  point 
them  out  at  present,  in  preference  to  others,  as  being  more 
nearly  related  to  the  subject  of  this  Essay. 

Mr.  Tooke  has  given  some  countenance  to  these  infer- 
ences, by  the  connection  in  which  he  introduces  the  fol- 
lowing etymologies  from  Vossius. 

*'  jinifnus,  Anima,  rivgv^a.  and  '^u%»)  are  participles." 
— "  Ariima  est  ab  Animus.  Animus  vero  est  a  Gra^co 
"  Av£/Ao?,  quod  dici  volunt  quasi  Agpo?,  ab  Aw  sive  Ag^/, 
"  quod  est  rivgw,-  et  Latinis  a  Spirando,  Spiritiis.  Immo 
"  et  Ti;;^>j  est  a  "^-^x^  quod  Hesychius  exponit  nv£w." 

I  have  already,  on  various  occasions,  observed,  that  the 

'►ita  quae  intelligimus,  ea  sunt  re  ipsa,  extra  nos,  eorumque  s/iecies 
'' in  nobis.  Est  enim  quAsi  rerum  speculum  intellectus  nos- 
'"  te»;  cui,  nisi  per  sensum  represententur  res,  nihil  SCIT 
"ipse." — (J.  C.  Scaliger,  chap.  66.)  Diversions  of  Purley,  Vol.  I.  pp. 

42,  4:5,  46,  47. 


20Q         ON  THE  TENDENCY  OF  SOME  LATE     [Emy  V. 

question  concerning  the  nature  of  miud^  is  altogether  fo- 
reign to  the  opinion  we  form  concerning  the  tlieorv  of  its 
operations;  and  that,  granting  it  to  be  of  a  material  origin, 
it  is  not  the  less  evident,  that  all  our  knowledge  of  it  is  to 
be  obtained  by  the  exercise  of  the  powers  of  conscious- 
ness and  of  reflection.  As  this  distinction,  however,  has 
been  altogether  o>  erlooked  by  tliese  profound  etymolo- 
gists, I  shall  take  occasion,  from  the  last  quotation,  to  pro- 
pose, as  a  problem  not  unworthy  of  their  attention,  an  exa- 
mination of  the  circumstances  which  have  led  men,  in  all 
ages,  to  apply,  to  the  sentient  and  diinking  principle  with- 
in us,  some  appellation  synonymous  with  spiritus  ovTrnvuM,; 
and,  in  other  cases,  to  liken  it  to  a  spark  of  fire,  or  some 
other  of  the  most  impalpable  and  mysterious  modifica- 
tions of  matter.  Cicero  hesitates  between  these  two  forms 
of  expression;  evidently,  however,  considering  it  as  a 
matter  of  little  consequence  which  we  should  adopt,  as 
both  appeared  to  him  to  be  equally  unconnected  with  our 
conclusions  concerning  the  thing  they  are  employed  to  ty- 
pify: "  Anima  sit  animus,  ignisve  nescio:  nee  me  pudet. 
"  fateri  nescire  quod  nesciam.  Illud  si  ulla  alia  de  re  ob- 
''  scura  affirmare  possem,  sive  anima  sive  ignis  sit  animus, 
"  eum  jurarem  esse  divinum.-'  This  figurative  language, 
with  respect  to  mind,  has  been  considered  by  some  of 
our  later  metaphysicians,  as  a  convincing  proof,  that  the 
doctrine  of  its  materiality  is  agreeable  to  general  belief; 
and  that  the  opposite  hypothesis  has  originated  in  the 
blunder  of  confounding  what  is  very  minute  with  what  is 
immaterial. 

To  mc,  I  must  confess,  it  appears  to  lead  to  a  conclu- 
sion directly  opposite.  For,  whence  this  disposition  to  at- 
tenuate and  subtihze.  to  the  very  verge    of  existence, 


Ciiap.  II.  j  PHILOLOGICAL  SPECULATIONS.  201 

the  atoms  or  elements  supposed  to  produce  the  pheno- 
mena of  thought  and  volition,  but  from  the  repugnance 
of  the  scheme  of  materialism  to  our  natural  apprehensions; 
and  from  a  secret  anxiety  to  guard  against  a  literal  inter- 
pretation of  our  metaphorical  phraseology?  Nor  has  this 
disposition  been  confined  to  the  vulgar.  Philosophical 
materialists  themselves  have  only  refined  farther  on  the 
popular  conceptions,  by  entrenching  themselves  against 
the  objections  of  their  adversaries,  in  the  modern  discov- 
eries concerning  light  and  electricity,  and  other  inscrutable 
causes,imanifested  by  their  effects  alone.  In  some  instances, 
they  have  had  recourse  to  the  supposition  of  the  possi- 
ble existence  of  matter,  under  forms  incomparably  more 
subtile  than  what  it  probably  assumes  in  these,  or  in  any 
other  class  of  physical  phenomena; — a  hypothesis  which 
it  is  impossible  to  describe  better  than  in  the  words  of 
La  Fontaine: 

"  Quintessence  d'atOme,  extrait  de  la  lumiere." 

It  is  evident  that,  in  using  this  language,  they  have  only 
attempted  to  elude  the  objections  of  their  adversaries,  by 
keeping  the  absurdity  of  their  theory  a  little  more  out  of 
the  view  of  superficial  inquirers;  divesting  matter  com- 
pletely of  all  those  properties  by  which  it  is  known  to  our 
senses;  and  substituting,  instead  of  what  is  commonly 
meant  by  that  word, — infinitesimal  or  evanescent  entities, 
in  the  pursuit  of  which  imagination  herself  is  quickly 
lost. 

The  prosecution  of  this  remark  would,  if  I  am  not 
mistaken,  open  a  view  of  the  subject  widely  different 
from  that  which  modern  materialists  have  taken.  But  as 
it  would  lead  me  too  far  aside  from  my  present  design,, 

2  C 


202  ox  TIIE  TENDENCY  OF  SOME  LATE  [Essay  V. 

I  shall  content  myself  with  observing  here,  that  the  rea- 
sonings which  have  been  lately  brought  forward  in  their 
support,  by  their  new  philological  allies,  have  proceeded 
upon  two  errors,  extremely  common  even  among  our  best 
philosophers; — first,  the  error  of  confounding  the  histo- 
rical progress  of  an  art  with  its  theoretical  principles 
when  advanced  to  maturity;  and,  secondly,  that  of  con- 
sidering language  as  a  much  more  exact  and  complete 
picture  of  thought,  than  it  is  in  any  state  of  society,  whe- 
ther barbarous  or  refined.  With  both  of  these  errors,  Mr. 
Tooke  appears  to  me  to  be  chargeable  in  an  eminent  degree. 
Of  the  latter,  I  have  already  produced  various  instances; 
and  of  the  former,  his  whole  work  is  one  continued  illus- 
tration. After  stating,  for  example,  the  beautiful  result 
of  his  researches  concerning  conjunctions,  the  leading  in- 
ference which  he  deduces  from  it  is,  that  the  common  ar- 
rangement of  the  parts  of  speech,  in  the  writings  of  gram- 
marians, being  inaccurate  and  unphilosophical,  must  con- 
tribute greatly  to  retard  the  progress  of  students  in  the 
acquisition  of  particular  languages:  whereas  nothing  can 
be  more  indisputable  than  this,  that  his  speculations  do  not 
relate,  in  the  least,  to  the  analysis  of  a  language,  after  it 
has  assumed  a  regular  and  systematical  form;  but  to  the 
gradual  steps  by  which  it  proceeded  to  that  state,  from 
the  inartificial  jargon  of  savages.  They  are  speculations, 
not  of  a  metaphysical,  but  of  a  purely  philological  nature: 
belonging  to  that  particular  species  of  disquisition  which 
I  have  elsewhere  called  theoretical  history.^  To  prove 
that  conjunctions  are  a  derivative  part  of  speech,  and  that, 
at  first,  their  place  was  supplied  by  words  which  are  con- 

*  See  the  account  of  the  Life  and  Writings  of  Mr.  Smith,  prefixed 
to  his  Posthumous  Essays. 


Chap.  11.3  PHILOLOGICAL  SPECULATION^.  203 

fessedly  pronouns  or  articles,  does  not  prove,  that  they 
ought  not  to  be  considered  as  a  separate  part  of  speech 
at  present^  any  more  than  Mr.  Smith's  theory  with  re- 
spect to  the  gradual  transformation  of  proper  names  in- 
to appellatives,  proves,  that  proper  names  and  ap- 
pellatives are  now  radically  and  essentially  the  same; 
or  than  the  employment  of  substantives  to  supply  the 
place  of  adjectives,  (which  Mr.  Tooke  tells  us  is  one  of 
the  signs  of  an  imperfect  language)  proves,  that  no  gram- 
matical distinction  exists  between  these  two  parts  of 
speech,  in  such  tongues  as  the  Greek,  the  Latin,  or  the 
English.  Mr.  Tooke,  indeed,  has  not  hesitated  to  draw  this 
last  inference  also;  but,  in  my  own  opinion,  with  nearly  as 
great  precipitation,  as  if  he  had  concluded,  because  savages 
supply  the  want  of  forks  by  their  fingers,  that  therefore 
a  finger  and  a  fork  are  the  same  thing. 

The  application  of  these  considerations  to  our  meta- 
phorical phraseology  relative  to  the  mind,  will  appear  more 
clearly  from  the  following  chapter. 


204  ON  THE  TENDENCY  OF  SO.VfE  LAI  K  [Essay  V 


CHAPTER  THIRD. 

1  HE  incidental  observations  which  I  have  made  in  dif- 
ferent parts  of  the  Philosophy  of  the  Human  Mind,  on  the 
circumstances  which  contribute  to  deprive  that  branch  of 
science  of  an  appropriate  and  specific  phraseology,  to- 
gether with  those  on  the  same  subject  in  the  former  chap- 
ter of  this  Essay,  preclude  the  necessity  of  a  formal  reply 
to  the  philological  comments  of  Mr.  Tooke  on  the  origin 
of  our  ideas.  If  any  thing  farther  be  wanting  for  a  complete 
refutation  of  the  conclusion  which  he  supposes  them  to  es- 
tablish, an  objection  to  it,  little  short  of  demonstrative,  may 
be  derived  from  the  variety  of  metaphors  which  may  be 
all  employed,  with  equal  propriety,  wherever  the  pheno- 
mena of  mind  are  concerned.  As  this  observation  (obvi- 
ous as  it  may  seem)  has  been  hitherto  very  little,  if  at  all 
attended  to,  in  its  connection  with  our  present  argument, 
I  shall  endeavour  to  place  it  in  as  strong  a  light  as  I  can. 
A  very  apposite  example,  for  my  purpose,  presents  it- 
self immediately,  in  our  common  language  with  respect  to 
memory.  In  speaking  of  that  faculty,  every  body  must  have 
remarked,  how  numerous  and  how  incongruous  are  the 
similitudes  involved  in  our  expressions.  At  one  time,  we 
liken  it  to  a  receptacle,  in  which  the  images  of  things  are 
treasured  up  in  a  certain  order;  at  another  time,  we  fanc} 
it  to  resemble  a  tablet,  on  which  these  i?nages  are  stamped, 
more  or  less  deeply;  on  other  occasions  again,  we  seem 
to  consider  it  as  something  analogous  to  the  canvas  of  a 


Ohap.  HI]  PHILOLOGICAL  SPECULATIOSfS.  205 

painter.  Instances  of  all  these  modes  of  speaking,  may  be 
collected  from  no  less  a  writer  than  Mr.  Locke.  "  Me- 
"  thinks"  (says  he,  in  one  place),  "  the  understanding  is 
"  not  much  unlike  a  closet,  wholly  shut  up  from  light,  with 
"  only  some  little  opening  left,  to  let  in  external  visible 
*'  resemblances,  or  ideas,  of  things  without:  fVould  the 
^^ pictures  coming  into  such  a  dark  room  but  stay  there,  and 
"  lie  so  orderly  as  to  be  found  upon  occasiori,  it  would  very 
"  much  resemble  the  understanding  of  a  man,  in  reference 
"  to  all  objects  of  sight,  and  the  ideas  of  them." — In  a 
different  part  of  his  Essay,  he  has  crowded  into  a  few 
sentences,  a  variety  of  such  theories;  shifting  backwards 
and  forwards  from  one  to  another,  as  they  happen  at  the 
moment  to  strike  his  fancy.  I  allude  to  a  very  interesting 
passage  with  respect  to  the  decay  of  memory,  produced 
occasionally  by  disease  or  old  age; — a  passage  where,  I 
cannot  help  remarking  by  the  way,  that  the  impression  of 
the  writer,  with  respect  to  the  precariousness  of  the  ten- 
ure by  which  the  mind  holds  its  most  precious  gifts,  has 
elevated  the  tone  of  his  composition  to  a  strain  of  figura- 
tive and  pathetic  eloquence,  of  which  I  do  not  recollect 
that  his  works  aiford  any  similar  example.  "  The  memory, 
"  in  some  men,  it  is  true,  is  very  tenacious,  even  to  a 
"  miracle;  but  yet  there  seems  to  be  a  constant  decay  of 
"  all  our  ideas,  even  of  those  which  are  struck  deepest,  and 
"  in  minds  the  most  retentive;  so  that,  if  they  be  not  some- 
"  times  renewed  by  repeated  exercise  of  the  senses,  or 
"  reflection  on  those  kind  of  objects  which  at  first  occa- 
"  sioned  them,  the  p?'ifit  ivears  out,  and  at  last  there  re- 
"  mains  nothing  to  be  seen.  Thus,  the  ideas,  as  well  as 
"  children  of  our  youth,  often  die  before  us:  And  our 
"  minds  represent  to  us  those  tombs  to  which  we  are  ap- 


206  ON  THE  TENDENCY  OF  SOME  LATE  [Essay  V. 

**  preaching;  where,  though  the  brass  and  marble  remain, 
"  yet  the  inscriptions  are  effaced  by  time  and  the  imagery 
'  moulders  away.  The  pictures  drawn  in  our  minds  are 
"  laid  in  fading  colours^  and  if  not  someti?nes  refreshed^ 
*■'■  vanish  and  disappear.^"*  He  afterwards  adds,  that  "we 
"  sometimes  find  a  disease  strip  the  mind  of  all  its  ideas, 
"  and  the  fames  of  a  fever  ^  in  a  few  days^  calcijie  all  those 
**  linages  to  dust  and  confusion  which  seemed  to  be  as  last- 
"  ing  as  if  graved  on  marble.''''  Such  is  the  poverty  of  lan- 
guage, that  it  is,  perhaps,  impossible  to  find  words  with 
respect  to  memory^  which  do  not  seem  to  imply  one  or 
other  of  these  different  hypotheses;  and  to  the  sound  phi- 
losopher, they  are,  all  of  them,  (when  considered  merely 
as  modes  of  expression)  equally  unexceptionable;  be- 
cause, in  employing  them,  he,  in  no  case,  rests  his  reason- 
ing upon  the  sign,  but  only  upon  the  thing  signified.  To 
the  Materialist,  however,  it  may  not  be  improper  to  hint, 
that  the  several  hypotheses  already  alluded  to,  are  com- 
pletely exclusive  of  each  other;  and  to  submit  to  his  con- 
sideration, whether  the  indiscriminate  use,  among  all  our 
most  precise  writers,  of  these  obviously  inconsistent  meta- 
phorsy  does  not  justify  us  in  concluding,  that  none  of  them 
has  any  connection  with  the  true  theory  of  the  phenomena 
which  he  conceives  them  to  explain;  and  that  they  deserve 
the  attention  of  the  metaphysician,  merely  as  familiar 
illustrations  of  the  mighty  influence  exerted  over  our 
most  abstracted  thoughts,  by  language  and  by  early 
associations.* 

Nor  must  it  be  forgotten,  that,  even  in  pure  Mathema- 
tics, our  technical  language  is  borrowed  from  the  physi- 
cal properties  and  affections  of  matter;  a  proposition,  of 

*  See  Note  (P). 


Chap,  m.]  PHILOLOGICAL  SPECULATIONS.  207 

which  it  is  unnecessary  for  me  to  mention  any  other 
proofs,  than  the  terms  employed  to  express  the  most  ele- 
mentary notions  of  geometry;  such  terms,  for  example,  as 
point  J  line,  surface^  solid,  angle,  ta?igent,  intersection,  cir- 
cumference; not  to  insist  on  such  phrases  as,  involutes  and 
evolutes,  osculating  circle,  and  various  others  of  a  similar 
description.  The  use  made  of  this  sort  of  figurative  lan- 
guage in  arithmetic,  is  an  instance,  perhaps,  still  more 
directly  to  our  present  purpose;  as  when  we  speak  of  the 
squares,  cubes,  andjractions  of  numbers;  to  which  may  be 
added,  as  a  remarkable  instance  of  the  same  thing,  the 
application  of  the  word  Jluxion  to  quantity  considered  in 
general. 

Notwithstanding  these  considerations,  I  do  not  know 
of  any  person,  possessing  the  slightest  claim  to  the  name 
of  philosopher,  who  has  yet  ventured  to  infer,  from  the 
metaphorical  origin  of  our  mathematical  language,  that 
it  is  impossible  for  us  to  annex  to  such  words  as  point, 
line,  or  solid,  any  clear  or  precise  notions,  distinct  from 
those  which  they  literally  express;  or,  that  all  our  conclu- 
sions, founded  on  abstractions  from  the  combinations 
presented  to  us  by  our  external  senses,  must  necessarily 
be  vain  and  illusory.  It  is  possible,  indeed,  that  some  may 
be  disposed  to  make  a  distinction  between  having  a  notion 
or  idea  of  an  object,  and  being  able  to  treat  it  as  a  subject 
of  reasoning; — between  having  a  ?iotion,  for  example,  of 
length  without  breadth,  and  reasoning  concerning  the  one 
dimension  without  any  reference  to  the  other.  To  this 
distinction,  trifling  as  it  is  in  reality,  I  have  no  material 
objection  to  state  on  the  present  occasion,  as  I  should  be 
completely  satisfied,  if  it  were  as  scrupulously  attended 
to  in  the  philosophy  of  mind,  as  it  uniformly  is  in  the  de- 


208  0\  THE  TENDENCY  OF  SOME  LATE  [Essay  V 

monstrations  of  the  mathematician; — the  sensible  images 
presented  to  the  fancy  by  the  metaphorical  words  em- 
ployed to  denote  the  internal  phenomena,  being  consi- 
dered as  analogous  to  the  extension  of  points,  and  the 
breadth  of  lines  in  a  geometrical  diagram;  and  the  same 
abstraction  from  the  literal  import  ctf  our  words  being 
steadily  maintained,  in  all  our  reasonings  in  the  former 
science,  which  is  indispensably  necessary  to  enable  us  to 
arrive  at  any  useful  conclusions  in  the  latter. 

Of  Mr.  Tooke's  opinion  on  the  nature  of  general  rea- 
sonings we  are  not,  as  yet,  fully  informed;  nor  has  he 
even  explained  himself  concerning  the  logical  principles 
of  mathematical  science.  He  has,  indeed,  given  us  to  un- 
derstand, that  he  conceived  the  whole  of  his  second  vo- 
lume to  be  levelled  at  the  imaginary  power  of  abstrac- 
tion; and  towards  the  close  of  it,  he  expresses  himself,  in 
pretty  confident  terms,  as  having  completely  accomplish- 
ed his  object:  "  You  have  now  instances  of  my  doctrine, 
"  in,  I  suppose,  about  a  thousand  words.  Their  number 
"  may  be  easily  increased.  But  I  trust  these  are  sufficient 
*'  to  discard  that  imagined  operation  of  the  mind  which 
"  has  been  called  abstraction;  and  to  prove,  that  what  we 
"  call  by  that  name,  is  merely  one  of  the  contrivances  of 
"  language  for  the  purpose  of  more  speedy  communi- 
"  cation."* 

In  what  manner  Mr.  Tooke  connects  this  very  copi- 
ous induction,  with  the  inference  he  deduces  from  it,  I 
must  confess  myself  unable  to  comprehend.  For  my  own 
J)art,  I  can  perceive  no  logical  connection  whatsoever  be- 
tween his  premises  and  his  conclusion;  nor  do  his  numc- 

•  Tooke,  Vol.  ii.  p.  396. 


Chap.  III.]  PHILOLOGICAL  SPECULATIONS.  209 

reus  examples  appear  to  me  to  establish  any  one  general 
truth,  but  the  influence  of  fancy  and  of  casual  association 
on  the  structure  of  speech.  Not  that  I  consider  this  as  a 
conclusion  of  little  moment;  for  of  the  reciprocal  influence 
of  speech  on  our  speculative  judgments,  I  am  fully  aware; 
and,  perhaps,  if  I  wished  for  an  illustration  of  the  fact,  I 
should  be  tempted  to  refer  to  the  train  of  thought  which 
has  given  birth  to  the  second  volume  of  the  Diversions  of 
Purley^  as  the  most  remarkable  example  of  it  that  has 
yet  occurred  in  literary  history. — "  Credunt  homines" 
(says  Bacon)  "  rationem  suam  verbis  imperare,  sed  fit 
*'  etiam,  ut  verba  vin^suam  super  rationem  retorqueant." 

With  respect  to  abstraction,  I  think  it  probable  that  Mr, 
Tooke  has  fallen  into  an  error  very  prevalent  among  later 
writers, — that  of  supposing  Berkeley's  argument  against 
abstract  general  ideas  to  have  proved  a  great  deal  more 
than  it  does. 

That  Berkeley  has  shewn,  in  the  most  satisfactory  man- 
ner, the  incorrectness  of  Locke's  language  upon  this  sub- 
ject, and  that  he  has  thrown  a  clear  and  strong  light  on 
the  nature  o^ general  reasonings  is  now,  I  believe,  admit- 
ted by  all  who  are  acquainted  with  his  writings.  But  does 
it  follow  from  Berkeley's  argument,  that  abstraction  is  an 
imaginary  faculty  of  the  mind,  or  that  our  general  con- 
clusions are  less  certain  than  former  logicians  had  con- 
ceived? No  one,  undoubtedly,  can,  for  a  moment,  admit 
such  suppositions,  who  understands  what  the  word  ab- 
straction means,  and  who  has  studied  the  first  book  of 
Euclid's  Elements. 

On  these,  and  some  other  collateral  points,  it  is  to  b^ 

hoped,  that  Mr,  Tooke  will  communicate  his  peculiar 

views  more  unreservedly,  in  the  farther  prosecution  of 

2  D 


210  ON  THK  TENDENCY  OF  SOME  LATE  [Essay  V. 

his  dcsij^i: — in  looking  forward  to  which,  I  trust  I  shall 
be  pardoned,  if  I  express  a  wish  (which  I  am  sure  I  feel 
in  common  with  many  of  his  admirers)  that  he  would 
condescend  to  adopt  the  usual  style  of  didactic  writing, 
without  availing  himself  of  a  form  of  composition  which 
eludes  the  most  obvious  and  the  most  insuperable  diffi- 
culties, by  means  of  a  personal  sarcasm,  or  of  a  political 
epigram. 

Strongly  impressed  with  the  prevalence  of  errors,  simi- 
lar to  those  which  have  misled  Mr.  Tooke  to  so  unpre- 
cedented a  degree,  a  philosophical  grammarian,  of  the 
first  eminence,  long  ago  recommended  the  total  proscrip- 
tion of  figurative  terms  from  all  abstract  discussions.*  To 
this  proposal  D'Alembert  objects,  that  it  would  require 
the  creation  of  a  new  language,  unintelligible  to  all  the 
world: — for  which  reason,  he  advises  philosophers  to  ad- 
here to  the  common  modes  of  speaking;  guarding  them- 
selves, as  much  as  possible,  against  the  false  judgments 
which  they  may  have  a  tendency  to  occasion,  f    To  me 

*  Du  Marsais.   Article  Abstraction  in  the  Encycloficdie. 

t  Un  Grammairien  Philosophe  voudroit,  que  dans  les  matieres 
metaphysiques  et  didactiques,  on  evitat,  le  plus  qu'il  est  possible,  les 
expressions  figurees;  qu'on  ne  dit  pas  qu'une  idee  en  renferme  une 
autre,  qu'on  unit  ou  qu'on  sefiare  des  idees,  et  ainsi  du  reste.  II  est 
certain  que  lorsqu'on  se  propose  de  rendre  sensibles  des  idees  pure- 
ment  intellectuclles,  idees  souvent  imparfaites,  obscures,  fugitives, 
et  pour  ainsi  dire,  a  demi-ecloses,  on  n'eprouve  que  trop  combien 
les  termes,  dont  on  est  force  de  se  servir,  sont  insuffisans  pour  ren- 
dre ces  idees,  et  souvent  propres  a  en  donner  des  fausses;  rien  ne 
seroit  done  plus  raisonnable  que  de  bannir  des  discussions  metaphy- 
siques les  expressions  figurees,  autant  qu'il  seroit  possible.  Mais 
pour  pouvoir  les  en  bannir  entierement,  il  faudroit  creer  une  langue 
expres,  dont  les  termes  ne  seroient  entendu  de  personne;  le  plus  court 
est  de  se  servir  de  la  langue  commune,  en  se  tenant  sur  ses  gardes 
pour  n'en  pas  abuser  dans  ses  jugemcns.  (Melanges,  tome  v.  p.  30.) 


Chap.  III.]  PHILOLOGICAL  SPECULATIONS.  211 

it  appears,  that  the  execution  of  the  design  would  be 
found,  by  any  person  who  should  attempt  it,  to  be  wholly 
impracticable,  at  least  in  the  present  state  of  metaphysical 
science.  If  the  new  nomenclature  were  coined  out  of 
merely  arbitrary  sounds,  it  would  be  altogether  ludicrous; 
if  analogous,  in  its  formation,  to  that  lately  introduced 
into  chemistry,  it  would,  in  all  probability,  systematize 
a  set  of  hypotheses,  as  unfounded  as  those  which  we  are 
anxious  to  discard. 

Neither  of  these  writers  has  hit  on  the  only  effectual 
remedy  against  this  inconvenience; — to  vary,  from  time 
to  time,  the  metaphors  we  employ,  so  as  to  prevent  any 
one  of  them  from  acquiring  an  undue  ascendant  over  the 
others,  either  in  our  own  minds,  or  in  those  of  our  rea- 
ders. It  is  by  the  exclusive  use  of  some  favourite  figure, 
that  careless  thinkers  are  gradually  led  to  mistake  a  simile 
or  distant  analogy  for  a  legitimate  theory. 

For  an  illustration  of  this  suggestion,  which  I  consider 
as  a  most  important  logical  rule  in  prosecuting  the  study 
of  mind,  I  must  refer  to  my  former  work.  Obvious  as  it 
may  appear,  I  do  not  recollect  to  have  met  with  it  in  the 
writings  of  any  of  my  predecessors.  It  is  very  possible, 
that  in  this  my  memory  may  deceive  me;  but  one  thing 
is  certain,  that  none  of  them  has  attemped  to  exemplify 
it  systematically  in  his  own  practice. 

After  these  remarks,  it  is  almost  superfluous  for  me  to 
add,  that  it  is,  in  many  cases,  a  fortunate  circumstance, 
when  the  words  we  employ  have  lost  their  pedigree;  or 
(what  amounts  nearly  to  the  same  thing)  when  it  can  be 
traced  by  those  alone  who  are  skilled  in  ancient  and  in  fo- 
reign  languages.  Such  -words  have  in  their  favour  the 
sanction  of  immemorial  use;  and  the  obscurity  of  their 


212  ON  THE  TENDENCY  OF  SOME  LATE  ftssay  V. 

history  prevents  them  from  misleading  the  imagination, 
by  recalling  to  it  the  sensible  objects  and  phenomena  to 
which  they  owed  their  origin.  The  notions,  accordingly, 
we  annex  to  them  may  be  expected  to  be  peculiarly  pre- 
cise and  definite,  being  entirely  the  result  of  those  habits 
of  induction  which  I  have  shewn  to  be  so  essentially 
connected  with  the  acquisition  of  language. 


The  philological  speculations,  to  which  the  foregoing 
criticisms  refer,  have  been  prosecuted  by  various  ingeni- 
ous writers,  uho  have  not  ventured  (perhaps,  who  have 
not  meant)  to  draw  from  them  any  inferences  in  favour 
of  materialism.  But  the  obscure  hints  frequently  thrown 
out,  of  the  momentous  conclusions  to  which  Mr.  Tooke's 
discoveries  are  to  lead,  and  the  gratulations  with  which 
they  were  hailed  by  the  author  of  ZooT70?}na,  and  by  other 
physiologists  of  the  same  school,  leave  no  doubt  with  re- 
spect to  the  ultimate  purpose  to  which  they  have  been 
supposed  to  be  subservient.  In  some  instances,  these 
writers  express  themselves,  as  if  they  conceived  the  phi- 
losophy of  the  human  mind  to  be  inaccessible  to  all  who 
have  not  been  initiated  in  their  cabalistical  mysteries;  and 
sneer  at  the  easy  credulity  of  those  who  imagine,  that  the 
substantive  spirit  means  any  thing  else  than  breath;  or 
the  adjective  right,  any  thing  essentially  different  from  a 
line  forming  the  shortest  distance  between  two  points. 
The  language  of  those  metaphysicians  who  have  recom- 
mended an  abstraction  from  things  external  as  a  necessa- 
ry preparation  for  studying  our  intellectual  frame,  Jias 


Chap.  III.]  PHILOLOGICAL  SPECULATIONS.  213 

been  censured  as  bordering  upon  enthusiasm,  and  as  cal- 
culated to  inspire  a  childish  wonder  at  a  department  of 
knowledge,  which,  to  the  few  who  are  let  into  the  secret, 
presents  nothing  above  the  comprehension  of  the  gram- 
marian and  the  anatomist.  For  my  own  part,  1  have  no 
scruple  to  avow,  that  the  obvious  tendency  of  these  doc- 
trines  to  degrade  the  nature  and  faculties  of  man  in  his 
own  estimation,  seems  to  me  to  afford,  of  itself,  a  very 
strong  presumption  against  their  truth.  Cicero  considered 
it  as  an  objection  of  some  weight  to  the  soundness  of  an 
ethical  system,  that  *'  it  savoured  of  nothing  grand  or 
"generous,"  [nihil mag?iijicum,  nihil generosum  sapit):—- 
Nor  was  the  objection  so  trifling  as  it  may  at  first  appear; 
for  how  is  it  possible  to  believe,  that  the  conceptions  of 
the  multitude  concerning  the  duties  of  life  are  elevated 
by  ignorance  or  prejudice,  to  a  pitch,  which  it  is  the  busi- 
ness  of  reason  and  philosophy  to  adjust  to  a  humbler 
aim?  From  a  feeling  somewhat  similar,  I  frankly  acknow- 
ledge the  partiality  I  entertain  towards  every  theory  rela- 
ting to  the  human  mind,  which  aspires  to  ennoble  its  rank 
in  the  creation.  I  am  partial  to  it,  not  merely  because  it 
flatters  an  inoffensive,  and  perhaps  not  altogether  a  useless 
pride;  but  because,  in  the  more  sublime  views  which  it 
opens  of  the  universe,  I  recognize  one  of  the  most  infal- 
lible characteristics,  by  which  the  conckisions  of  induc- 
tive science  are  distinguished  from  the  presumptuous  fic- 
tions of  human  folly. 

When  I  study  the  intellectual  powers  of  Man,  in  the 
writings  of  Hartley,  of  Priestley,  of  Darwin,  or  of  Tooke, 
I  feel  as  if  I  were  examining  the  sorry  mechanism  that 
gives  motion  to  a  puppet.  If,  for  a  moment,  I  am  carried 
along  by  their  theories  of  human  knowledge,  and  of  hu- 


214  ON  THE  TENDENCY  OF  SOME  LATE  [Essay  V. 

man  life,  I  seem  to  myself  to  be  admitted  behind  the  cur- 
tain of  what  I  had  once  conceived  to  be  a  mag-nificent 
theatre;  and,  while  I  survey  the  tinsel  frippery  of  the  ward- 
robe, and  the  paltry  decorations  of  the  scenery,  am  mor- 
tified to  discover  the  trick  which  had  cheated  my  eye  at 
a  distance.  This  surely  is  not  the  characteristic  of  truth 
or  of  nature;  the  beauties  of  which  invite  our  closest  in- 
spection; deriving  new  lustre  from  those  microscopical 
researches  which  deform  the  most  finished  productions 
of  art.  If,  in  our  physical  inquiries  concerning  the  ma- 
terial world,  every  step  that  has  been  hitherto  gained,  has 
at  once  exalted  our  conceptions  of  its  immensity,  and  of 
its  order,  can  we  reasonably  suppose,  that  the  genuine 
philosophy  of  the  Mind  is  to  disclose  to  us  a  spectacle 
less  pleasing,  or  less  elevating,  than  fancy  or  vanity  had 
disposed  us  to  anticipate? 

In  dismissing  this  subject,  it  is,  I  hope,  scarcely  neces- 
sary for  me  to  caution  my  readers  against  supposing,  that 
the  scope  of  the  remarks  now  made,  is  to  undervalue  the 
researches  of  Mr.  Tooke  and  his  followers.  My  wish  is 
only  to  mark  out  the  limits  of  their  legitimate  and  very 
ample  province.  As  long  as  the  philologer  confines  him- 
self to  the  discussions  of  grammar  and  of  etymology,  his 
labours,  while  they  are  peculiarly  calculated  to  gratify  the 
natural  and  liberal  curiosity  of  men  of  erudition,  may 
often  furnish  important  data  for  illustrating  the  progress 
of  laws,  of  arts,  and  of  manners; — for  clearing  up  obscure 
passages  in  ancient  writers; — or  for  tracing  the  migra- 
tions of  mankind,  in  ages  of  which  we  have  no  historical 
records.  And  although,  without  the  guidance  of  more  stea- 
dy lights  than  their  own,  they  are  more  likely  to  bewilder 
than  to  direct  in  the  study  of  the  Mind,  they  may  yet  (as 


Chap.  111.3  PHILOLOGICAL  SPECULATIONS.  215 

I  shall  attempt  to  exemplify  in  the  Second  Part  of  this 
Volume)  supply  many  useful  materials  towards  a  history 
of  its  natural  progress; — more  particularly  towards  a  his- 
tory of  Imagination,  considered  in  its  relation  to  the  prin- 
ciples of  Criticism.  But,  when  the  speculations  of  the 
mere  scholar,  or  glossarist,  presume  to  usurp,  as  they  have 
too  often  done  of  late,  the  honours  of  Philosophy,  and 
that  for  the  express  purpose  of  lowering  its  lofty  pursuits 
to  a  level  with  their  own,  their  partisans  stand  in  need  of 
the  admonition  which  Seneca  addressed  to  his  friend  Lu- 
cilius,  when  he  cautioned  him  against  those  grammatical 
sophists  who,  by  the  frivolous  details  of  their  verbal  con- 
troversies, had  brought  discredit  on  the  splendid  dispu- 
tations of  the  stoical  school:  "  Relinque  istum  ludum  li- 
"  terarium  philosophorum,  qui  rem  magnificentissimam 
''  ad  syllabas  vocant,  qui  animum  minuta  docendo  demit- 
"  tunt  et  conterunt,  et  id  agunt  ut  philosophia  potius 
*'  difficilis  quam  magna  videatur."* 

*  Seneca,  Epist.  71. — "Abandon  this  literary  pastime,  introduced 
»'  by  men  who  would  bring  the  noblest  of  all  sciences  to  the  test  of 
*'  words  and  syllables;  who,  by  the  minuteness  of  their  disquisitions, 
"  let  down  the  mind  and  wear  out  its  powers,  and  seem  anxious  to 
"  invest  philosophy  with  new  difficulties,  when  it  ought  to  have  been 
"  their  aim  to  display  her  in  all  her  grandeur," 


216         ON  THE  TENDENCY  OF  SOME  LATE     [Essa^'V. 


CHAPTER  FOURTH. 

Another  mistaken  idea,  which  runs  through  the  the- 
ories of  some  of  our  late  philologers,  although  of  a  far 
less  dangerous  tendency  than  that  which  has  been  just  re- 
marked, is  yet  of  sufficient  consequence  to  deserve  our 
attention,  before  we  close  the  present  discussion.  It 
relates,,  indeed,  to  a  question  altogether  foreign  to  the 
subject  of  the  foregoing  essays;  but  has  its  origin  in  an 
error  so  similar  to  those  which  I  have  been  endeavouring 
to  correct,  than  I  cannot  expect  to  find  a  more  convenient 
opportunity  of  pointing  it  out  to  the  notice  of  my  readers. 
The  idea  to  which  I  refer  is  assumed,  or,  at  least,  im- 
plied as  an  axiom,  in  almost  every  page  of  Mr.  Tooke's 
work;  That,  in  order  to  understand  with  precision,  the 
import  of  any  English  word,  it  is  necessary  to  trace  its 
progress  historically  through  all  the  successive  meanings 
which  it  has  been  employed  to  convey,  from  the  moment 
that  it  was  first  introduced  into  our  language;  or  if  the 
word  be  of  foreign  growth,  and  transmitted  to  us  from 
some  dialect  of  our  continental  ancestors,  that  we  should 
prosecute  the  etymological  research,  till  we  ascertain  the 
literal  and  primitive  sense  of  the  root  from  whence  it 
sprung.*  Nor  is  this  idea  peculiar  to  Mr.   Tooke.   It 

*  In  one  passage,  he  seems  to  pay  some  deference  to  usages 
"  Quern  penes  arbitrium  est  et  jus  et  norma  loquencU;" 
But  the  whole  spirit  of  his  book  proceeds  on  the  opposite  principle; 
and  even  in  the  page  to  which  I  allude,  he  tells  us,  that  "  capricious 

2 


( 

Chap*,  ni.]  PHILOLOGICAL  SPECULATIONS.  2lf 

forms,  in  a  great  measure,  the  ground-work  of  a  learned 
and  ingenious  book  on  French  Synomjmes,  by  M.  Rou- 
baud;  and,  if  we  may  judge  from  the  silence  of  later  wri- 
ters, it  seems  to  be  now  generally  acquiesced  in,  as  the 
soundest  criterion  we  can  appeal  to,  in  settling  the  very 
nice  disputes  to  which  this  class  of  words  have  frequently- 
given  occasion. 

For  my  own  part,  I  am  strongly  inclined  to  think,  that 
the  instances  are  few  indeed,  (if  there  are,  in  truth,  any 
instances)  in  which  etymology  furnishes  effectual  aids  to 
guide  us,  either  in  writing  with  propriety  the  dialect  of  our 
own  times;  or  in  fixing  the  exact  signification  of  ambigu- 
ous terms;  or  in  drawing  the  line  between  expressions 
which  seem  to  be  nearly  equivalent.  In  all  such  cases, 
nothing  can,  in  my  opinion,  be  safely  trusted  to,  but  that 
habit  of  accurate  and  vigilant  induction,  which,  by  the 
study  of  the  most  approved  models  of  writing  and  of  think- 
ing, elicits  gradually  and  insensibly  the  precise  notions 
which  our  best  authors  .have  annexed  to  their  phraseo- 
logy. It  is  on  this  principle  that  Girard  and  Beauzee  have 
proceeded  in  all  their  critical  decisions;  and,  although  it 
cannot  be  denied,  that  there  is  often  a  great  deal  of  false 
refinement  in  both,  they  must  be  allowed  the  merit  of 
pointing  out  to  their  successors  the  only  road  that  could 
conduct  them  to  the  truth.  In  D'Alembert's  short  but 
masterly  sketch  on  Synonymes,  he  has  followed  precisely 
the  same  track.* 

How  very  little  advantage  is  to  be  gained  from  etymo- 
logy, in  compositions  where  taste  is  concerned,  may  be 

"  and  mutable  fashion  has  nothing  to  do  in  our  inquiries  into  the  na- 
"  ture  of  language,  and  the  meaning  of  words," — Vol.  II.  p.  95, 
*  See  note  at  the  end  (Q). 

2E 


218  ON  THE  TENDENCY  OP  SOME  LATE  [Essay  V. 

inferred  from  this  obvious  consideration,  That  among 
words  deriving  their  origin  from  the  same  source,  we  find 
some  ennobled  by  the  usage  of  one  country;  while  others 
very  nearly  allied  to  them,  nay,  perhaps  identical  in  sound 
and  in  orthography,  arc  debased  by  the  practice  of  ano- 
ther. It  is  owing  to  this  circumstance,  that  Englishmen, 
and  still  more  Scotchmen,  when  they  begin  the  study 
of  German,  are  so  apt  to  complain  of  the  deep  rooted  as- 
sociations which  must  be  conquered,  before  they  are  able 
to  relish  the  more  refined  beauties  of  style  in  that  parent 
language  on  which  their  own  has  been  grafted. 

On  the  other  hand,  when  a  word  originally  low  or  ludi- 
crous, has,  in  consequence  of  long  use,  been  once  enno- 
bled or  consecrated,  I  do  not  well  see  what  advantage,  in 
point  of  taste,  is  to  be  expected  from  a  scrupulous  exami- 
nation of  its  genealogy  or  of  its  kindred  connections. 
Mr.  Tooke  has  shewn,  in  a  very  satisfactory  manner,  that 
some  English  words  which  are  now  banished,  not  only 
from  solemn  discourse,  but  from  decent  conversation,  are 
very  nearly  allied,  in  their  origin,  to  others  which  rank 
with  the  most  unexceptionable  in  our  language;  and  he 
seems  disposed  to  ascribe  our  prejudice  against  the  for- 
mer  to  ^  false  delicacy.*  I  should  be  glad  to  know  what 
practical  inference  Mr.  Tooke  would  wish  us  to  draw 
from  these  discoveries.  Is  it  that  the  latter  should  be  de- 
graded, on  account  of  the  infamy  of  their  connections;  or 
that  every  word  which  can  claim  a  common  descent  with 
them  from  a  respectable  stem  is  entitled  to  admission  into 
the  same  society? 

May  there  not  be  some  risk  that,  by  such  etymological 

*Vol.  II.  pp.  67  and  1^4. 


Cfeap.  III.]  PHILOLOGICAL  SPECULATIONS.  21$ 

Studies,  when  pushed  to  an  excess,  and  magnified  in  the 
imagination  to  an  undue  importance,  the  taste  may  lose 
more  in  the  nicety  of  its  discrimination,  than  the  under- 
standing gains  in  point  of  useful  knowledge?  One  thing 
I  can  state  as  a  fact,  confirmed  by  my  own  observation, 
so  far  as  it  has  reached; — that  I  have  hardly  met  with  an 
individual,  habitually  addicted  to  them,  who  wrote  his 
own  language  with  ease  and  elegance.  Mr.  Tooke  himself 
is,  indeed,  one  remarkable  exception  to  the  general  rule; 
but  even  with  respect  to  him,  I  am  inclined  to  doubt,  if 
the  style  of  his  composition  be  improved,  since  he  appear- 
ed with  such  distinction  as  the  antagonist  of  Junius. 

Nor  will  this  effect  of  these  pursuits  appear  surprising, 
when  it  is  considered  that  their  tendency  is  to  substitute 
the  doubtful  niceties  of  the  philologer  and  the  antiquarian, 
as  rules  of  decision  in  cases  where  there  is  no  legitimate 
appeal  but  to  custom  and  to  the  ear.  Even  among  those 
who  do  not  carry  their  researches  deeper  than  the  super- 
ficial aspect  of  our  vernacular  speech,  we  know  what  a 
deceitful  guide  etymology  frequently  is,  in  questions 
about  the  propriety  or  impropriety  of  expression.  How 
much  more  so,  when  such  questions  are  judged  of  on 
principles,  borrowed  from  languages  which  are  seldom 
studied  by  any  who  have  made  the  cultivation  of  taste  a 
serious  object!* 

*  "  II  est  si  rare  que  I'elymologie  d'un  mot  coincide  avec  sa  v^ri- 
''  table  acceptation,  qu'on  ne  peut  justifier  ces  sortes  de  recherches 
"  par  le  pretexte  de  mieux  fixer  par-la  le  sens  des  mots.  Les  ecri- 
"  vains,  qui  savent  le  plus  de  langues,  sont  ceux  qui  commettent  le 
"  plus  d'improprietes.  Trop  occupes  de  I'ancienne  energie  d'un 
"  terme,  ils  oublieht  sa  valeur  actuelle,  et  negligent  les  nuances,  qui 
"  font  la  grace  et  la  force  du  discours." 

See  the  notes  annexed  to  the  ingenious  memoir  read  before  the 
Academy  of  Berlin,  by  M.  de  Rivarol;  entitled,  De  P Universality 
de  la  languc  Frangoise. 


5220  ON  THE  TENDENCY  OF  SOME  LATE  [Essay  V. 

As  an  illustration  of  this,  I  shall  only  take  notice  of  the 
absurdities,  into  which  we  should  inevitably  fall,  if  we 
were  to  employ  the  conclusions  of  the  etymologist,  as  a 
criterion  forjudging  of  the  propriety  of  the  metaphors  in- 
volved in  our  common  forms  of  speech.  In  some  cases, 
where  such  metaphors,  fiom  their  obvious  incongruity, 
form  real  and  indisputable  blemishes  in  our  language, 
necessity  forces  us  to  employ  them,  from  the  want  of  more 
unexceptionable  substitutes;  and,  where  this  necessity 
exists,  it  would  be  mere  pedantry  to  oppose  to  established 
use  the  general  canons  of  criticism.  My  own  opinion  is^ 
that  this  pedantry  has,  for  many  years  past,  been  carried 
farther  than  the  genius  of  the  English  tongue  will  justify, 
and  has  had  a  sensible  influence  in  abridging  the  variety 
of  its  native  stores  of  expression;  but  it  is  only  of  late  that, 
in  separating  the  primitive  from  the  metaphorical  mean- 
ings of  words,  it  has  become  customary  for  critics  to  carry 
their  refinements  farther  than  the  mere  English  scholar  is 
able  to  accompany  them;  or  to  appeal  from  the  authority 
of  Addison  and  Svv'ift,  to  the  woods  of  Germany.  * 

The  following  principle  may,  I  think,  be  safely  adopt- 
ed as  a  practical  rule;  that,  as  mixed  metaphors  displease 

*  The  argument  against  the  critical  utility  of  these  etymological 
researches  might  be  carried  much  farther,  by  illustrating  their  ten- 
dency, with  respect  to  our //o<°//fc/  vocabulary.  The  power  of //«'«• 
(which  depends  wholly  on  association)  is  often  increased  by  the  mys- 
tery which  hangs  over  the  origiji  of  its  consecrated  terms;  as  the 
nobility  of  a  family  gains  an  accession  of  lustre,  when  its  history  is 
lost  in  the  obscurity  of  the  fabulous  ages. 

A  single  instance  will  at  once  explain  and  confirm  the  foregoipg 
remark.— -Few  words,  perhaps,  in  our  language,  have  been  used 
more  happily  by  some  of  our  older  poets  than  Harbinger;  more  par- 
ticularly by  Milton,  whose  Paradise  Lost  has  rendered  even  the  or- 
ganical  sound  pleasing  to  the  fancy, 


Chap.  III.]  PHILOLOGICAL  SPECULATIONS.  221 

solely  by  the  incongruous  pictures  they  present  to  the 
imagination,  they  are  exceptionable  in  those  cases  alone, 
where  the  words  which  we  combine  appear  obviously, 
and  without  a  moment's  reflection,  to  have  a  metaphori- 
cal signification;  and,  consequently,  that  when,  from  long 
use,  they  cease  to  be  figurative,  and  become  virtually  li- 
teral expressions,  no  argument  against  their  propriety  can 
have  any  weight,  so  far  as  it  rests  on  metaphysical  or  phi- 
lological considerations  concerning  their  primitive  roots. 
In  such  cases,  the  ear  of  a  person  familiarized  to  the  style 
of  our  standard  authors,  ought  to  silence  every  specula- 
tive argument,  how  plausible  soever  it  may  appear  to  the 
theorist,  in  point  of  etymological  verisimilitude. 

In  confirmation  of  this  principle,  it  may  be  observed, 
that,  among  our  metaphorical  expressions,  there  are  some, 
where  the  literal  sense  continues  to  maintain  its  ascendant 
over  the  metaphorical;  there  are  others,  where  the  meta- 
phorical has  so  far  supplanted  the  literal,  as  to  present  it- 
self as  the  more  obvious  interpretation  of  the  two. 

"  And  now  of  love  they  treat,  t'lii  t'l'  evening  star, 
"  Love's  harbinger,  appeared." 

How  powerful  are  the  associations  which  such  a  combination  of 
ideas  must  establish  in  the  memory  of  every  reader  capable  of  feelinj^ 
their  beauty;  and  what  a  charm  is  communicated  to  the  word,  thus 
blended  in  its  effect  with  such  pictures,  as  those  of  the  evening  star. 
and  of  the  loves  of  our  first  parents! 

When  I  look  into  Johnson  for  the  etymology  of  Harbinger,  I  find 
it  is  derived  from  the  Dutch  Herberger,  which  denotes  one  who  goes 
to  provide  lodgings  or  a  harbour  for  those  that  follow.  Whoever 
may  thank  the  author  for  this  conjecture,  it  certainly  will  not  be  the 
lover  of  Milton's  poetry.  The  injury,  however,  which  is  here  done 
to  the  word  in  question,  is  slight  in  comparison  of  what  it  would 
have  been,  if  its  origin  had  been  traced  to  some  root  in  our  own  lan- 
guage equally  ignoble,  and  resembling  it  as  nearly  in  point  of  ortho^ 
graphy. 


222  ON  THE  TENDENCY  OF  SOME  LATE  [Essay  V. 

The  words  acuteness^  deliberation^  and  sagacity^  are  ex- 
amples of  the  latter  sort; — suggesting  immediately  the 
ideas  which  they  figuratively  express;  and  not  even  ad- 
mitiiiig  of  a  literal  interpretation,  without  some  violence 
to  ordinary  phraseology.  In  all  such  instances,  the  figura- 
tive origin  of  the  word  appears  to  me  to  be  entitled  to  no 
attention,  in  the  practice  of  composition. 

It  is  otherwise,  however,  where  the  literal  meaning  con- 
tinues to  prevail  over  the  metaphorical;  and  where  the 
first  aspect  of  a  phrase  may,  of  course,  present  an  unpleas- 
ing  combination  of  things  material  with  things  intellectual 
or  moral.  The  verb  to  handle^  as  employed  in  the  expres- 
sions— to  handle  a  philosophical  question — to  handle  a 
point  of  controversy — seems  to  me  to  be  in  this  predica- 
ment. It  is  much  used  by  the  old  English  divines;  more 
particular!}'  by  those  who  have  been  distinguished  by  the 
name  o^ puritans;  and  it  is  a  favourite  mode  of  speaking, 
not  onl}'^  with  Lord  Karnes  in  his  Elements  of  Criticism, 
but,  with  a  still  higher  authority  in  point  of  style,  Mr. 
Burke,  in  his  book  on  the  Sublime  and  Beautiful. 

It  is,  perhaps,  owing  to  some  caprice  of  my  own  taste, 
but  I  must  acknowledge,  that  I  had  always  a  dislike  at 
the  word  when  thus  applied;  more  especially,  when  the 
subject  in  question  is  of  such  a  nature,  as  to  require  a 
certain  lightness  and  delicacy  of  style.  For  many  years 
past,  it  has  been  falling  gradually  into  disuse;  its  place 
being  commonly  supplied  by  the  verb  to  treat; — a  verb 
which,  when  traced  to  its  root  (tractare)  in  the  Latin  lan- 
guage, is  precisely  of  the  same  import;  but  which,  in  con- 
sequence of  its  less  obvious  extraction,  does  not  obtrude 
its  literal  meaning  on  the  imagination,  in  a  manner  at  all 


Chap. HI]  PHILOLOGICAL  SPECULATIONS.  225 

offensive.  In  most  cases  of  the  same  sort,  it  will  be  found 
convenient  to  avail  ourselves  of  a  similar  artifice. 

"  It  might  be  expected"  (says  Burke)  "  from  the  fer- 
"  tility  of  the  subject,  that  I  should  consider  poetry,  as 
"  it  regards  the  sublime  and  beautiful,  more  at  large;  but 
**  it  must  be  observed,  that  in  this  light  it  has  been  often 
"  and  well  handled  already." — In  the  following  sentence, 
the  use  of  the  same  word  strikes  me  as  still  more  excep- 
tionable: "  This  seems  to  me  so  evident,  that  I  am  a  good 
"  deal  surprised  that  none  who  have  handled  the  subject  . 
"  have  made  any  mention  of  the  quality  of  smoothness, 
"  in  the  enumeration  of  those  that^o  to  the  forming  of 
''beauty." 

Upon  the  very  same  principle,  I  am  inclined  to  object 
to  the  phrase  go  to,  as  here  employed.  I  know,  that  the 
authority  of  Swift  and  of  Addison  may  be  pleaded  in  its 
favour;  but  their  example  has  not  been  followed  by  the 
best  of  our  later  writers;  and  the  literal  meaning  of  the 
verb  GO,  when  connected  with  the  preposition  to,  has 
now  so  decided  an  ascendant  over  the  metaphorical,  as 
to  render  it  at  present  an  awkward  mode  of  expression, 
whatever  the  case  may  have  been  in  the  days  of  our  an- 
cestors. 

In  forming  a  judgment  on  questions  of  this  kind,  it 
must  not  be  overlooked,  whether  the  expression  is  used 
as  a  rhetorical  ornament  addressed  to  the  fiincy;  or  as  a 
sign  of  thought  destined  for  the  communication  of  know- 
ledge. On  the  former  supposition,  it  is  possible  that  the 
same  phrase  may  offend;  which,  on  the  latter,  would  not 
only  be  unexceptionable,  but  the  most  simple  and  natural 
turn  of  expression  which  the  language  supplies. 


224  ON  THE  TENDENCY  OF  SOME  LATE  [Essay  V. 

I  have  elsewhere  contrasted  some  of  the  opposite  per- 
fections of  the  philosophical,  and  of  the  rhetorical  or  poe- 
tical style.  The  former,  I  have  observed,  accomplishes 
its  purposes  most  eft'ectually,  when,  like  the  language  of 
algebra,  it  confines  our  reasoning  faculties  to  their  appro- 
priate province,  and  guards  the  thoughts  against  any  dis- 
traction from  the  occasional  wanderings  of  fancy.  How 
different  from  this  is  the  aim  of  poetry!  Sometimes  to 
subdue  reason  itself  by  her  siren  song;  and,  in  all  her 
higher  efforts,  to  revert  to  the  first  impressions  and  to 
the  first  language  of  nature; — clothing  every  idea  with  a 
sensible  image,  and  keeping  the  fancy  for  ever  on  the 
wing.  Nor  is  it  sufficient,  for  this  end,  to  speak  by  means 
of  metaphors  or  symbols.  It  is  necessary  to  employ  such 
as  retain  enough  of  the  gloss  of  novelty  to  stimulate  the 
powers  of  conception  and  imagination;  and,  in  the  selec- 
tion of  words,  to  keep  steadily  in  view  the  habitual  asso- 
ciations of  those  upon  whom  they  are  destined  to  operate. 
Hence,  to  all  who  cultivate  this  delightful  art,  and  still 
more  to  all  who  speculate  concerning  its  theory,  the  im- 
portance of  those  studies  which  relate  to  the  associating 
principle,  and  to  the  history  of  the  human  mind,  as  ex- 
emplified in  the  figurative  mechanism  of  language.  Of 
this  remark  I  intend  to  offer  various  illustrations  in  the 
Essays  which  are  to  follow: — but,  before  entering  upon 
any  new  topics,  it  yet  remains  for  me  to  add  a  few  hints, 
which  have  a  more  particular  reference  to  style  in  those 
instances,  where  the  object  of  the  writer  is  merely  to 
attain  the  merits  of  perspicuity  and  sin>plicity. 

In  cases  of  this  last   description,    the   considerations 

which  have  been  already  stated  lead  me  to  conclude,  that 

the  general  rules  which  reprobate  mixed  metaphors,  ought 

2 


Chap.  IV.3  PHILOLOGICAL  SPECULATIONS.  2^5 

to  be  interpreted  with  a  greater  degree  of  latitude  than 
critics  are  accustomed  to  allow.  I  have  heard,  for  exam- 
ple, the  phrase  Jertile  source  censured  more  than  once,  as 
a  trespass  against  these  rules.  I  think  I  may  venture  to 
appeal  to  a  great  majority  of  my  readers,  whether  this 
impropriety  ever  occurred  to  them,  when  they  have  met 
with  the  phrase,  as  they  often  must  have  done,  in  the 
best  English  authors;  nay,  whether  this  phrase  does  not 
strike  their  ear,  as  a  more  nati^al  and  obvious  combina- 
tion than  copious  source,  which  some  would  substitute  in- 
stead of  it.  Why,  then,  should  we  reject  a  convenient  ex- 
pression, which  custom  has  already  sanctioned;  and,  by 
tying  ourselves  down,  in  this  instance,  to  the  exclusive 
employment  of  the  adjective  copious,  impoverish  the  scan- 
ty  resources  which  the  English  idiom  affords  for  diversi- 
fying our  phraseology?*  On  the  same  principle,  I  would 

*  If  there  is  any  one  English  word,  which  is  now  become  virtually 
literal,  in  its  metaphorical  applications,  it  is  the  word  source.  Who 
h  it  that  ever  thought  of  a  spring  or  fountain  of  water,  in  speaking 
of  God  as  the  source  of  existence;  of  the  sun  as  the  source  of  light 
and  heat;  oi  land  as  one  of  the  sources  of  national  wealth;  or  oi  sensa- 
tion and  rejiection,  as  the  only  sources  (according  to  Locke)  of  hu- 
man knowledge; — propositions  which  it  would  not  be  easy  to  enun- 
ciate with  equal  clearness  and  conciseness  in  any  other  manner? 
The  same  observation  may  be  extended  to  the  adjective  fertile; 
which  we  apply  indiscriminately  to  a  productive ^e/rf;  to  an  inventive 
genius;  and  even  to  the  mines  which  supply  us  with  the  precious  me- 
tals. I  cannot  therefore  see  the  shadow  of  a  reason  why  these  two  words 
should  not  be  joined  together  in  the  most  correct  composition.  A 
similar  combination  has  obtained  in  the  French  language,  in  which 
the  phrase  source  feconde  has  been  long  sanctioned  by  the  highest  aur 
thorities. 

It  is  necessary  for  me  to  observe  here,  that  I  introduce  this  and 
other  examples  of  the  same  kind,  merely  as  illustrations  of  my 
meaning;  and  that  it  is  of  no  consequence  to  my  argument,  whethci- 
my  decisions,  in  particular  cases,  be  right  or  wrong. 

2F 


226  ox  THE  TENDENCY  01^  SOME  LATE  [Essay  V- 

vindicate  such  phrases  as  the  following; — to  dwell,  or  to 
enlarge,  on  a  particular  point;  or  on  a  particular  head  of 
a  discourse;  or  on  a  particular  branch  of  an  argument. 
Nor  do  I  see  any  criticism  to  which  they  are  liable,  which 
would  not  justify  the  vulgar  cavil  against  golden  candle- 
stick, and  glass  inkhorn; — expressions  which  it  is  impos- 
sible to  dispense  with,  but  by  means  of  absurd  circum- 
locutions. In  these  last  cases,  indeed,  the  etymology  of 
the  words  leads  the  attention  back  to  the  history  of  the 
arts,  rather  than  to  that  of  the  metaphorical  uses  of  speech; 
but  in  both  instances  the  same  remark  holds,  that  when 
a  writer,  or  a  speaker,  wishes  to  express  himself  plainly 
and  perspicuously,  it  is  childish  in  him  to  reject  phrases 
which  custom  has  consecrated,  on  account  of  the  incon- 
sistencies which  a  philological  analysis  may  point  out, 
between  their  primitive  import  and  their  popular  accep- 
tations. 

In  the  practical  application,  I  acknowledge,  of  this  ge- 
neral conclusion,  it  requires  a  nice  tact,  aided  by  a  fami- 
liar acquaintance  with  the  best  models,  to  be  able  to  de- 
cide, when  a  metaphorical  word  comes  to  have  the  effect  of 
a  literal  and  specific  term; — or,  (what  amounts  to  the  same 
thing)  when  it  ceases  to  present  its  primitive  along  with 
its  figurative  meaning:  And  whenever  the  point  is  at  all 
doubtful,  it  is  unquestionably  safer  to  pay  too  much,  than 
too  little  respect,  to  the  common  canons  of  verbal  criti- 
cism. All  that  I  wish  to  establish  is,  that  these  canons,  if 
adopted  without  limitations  and  exceptions,  would  pro- 
duce a  style  of  composition  different  from  what  has  been 
exemplified  by  the  classical  authors,  either  of  ancient  or 
of  modern  times;  and  which  no  writer  or  speaker  could 
attempt  to  sustain,  without  feeling  himself  perpetually 


Chap.  IV.]  PHILOLOGICAL  SPECULATIONS.  227 

cramped  by  fetters,  inconsistent  with  the  freedom,  the 
variety,  and  the  grace  of  his  expression.* 

If  these  remarks  have  any  foundation  in  truth,  when  ap- 
pUed  to  questions  which  fall  under  the  cognizance  of 
illiterate  judges,  they  conclude  with  infinitely  greater 
force  in  favour  of  established  practice,  when  opposed 
merely  by  such  arcana  as  have  been  brought  to  light  by 
the  researches  of  the  scholar  or  the  antiquary.  Consider- 
ing, indeed,  the  metaphorical  origin  of  by  far  the  greater 
proportion  of  words  in  every  cultivated  language,  (a  fact 
which  Mr.  Tooke's  ingenious  speculations  have  now 
placed  in  a  point  of  view  so  peculiarly  luminous),  etymo- 
logy, if  systematically  adopted  as  a  test  of  propriety, 
would  lead  to  the  rejection  of  all  our  ordinary  modes  of 
speaking;  without  leaving  us  the  possibility  of  communi- 
cating to  each  other  our  thoughts  and  feelings,  in  a  man- 
ner not  equally  liable  to  the  same  objections. 

*  The  following  maxim  does  honour  to  the  good  sense  and  good 
taste  of  Vaugelas — "  Lorsqu'une  fa9on  de  parler  est  usitee  des  bons 
«  auteurs,  il  ne  faut  pas  s'amuser  a  en  faire  ranatomie,ni  apointiller 
"  dessus,  comme  font  une  infinite  de  gens;  mais  il  faut  se  laisser  em- 
"  porter  au  torrent,  et  parler  comme  les  autres,  sans  daignerecoutei' 
"  ces  eplucheurs  de  phrases." 


END  OF  PAJRT  FIRST. 


PHILOSOPHICAL  ESSAYS. 
PART  SECOND. 


PHILOSOPHICAL  ESSAYS. 

PART  SECOND. 


ESSAY  FIRST. 

ON    THE    BEAUTIFUL. 


INTRODUCTION. 

IN  the  volume  which  I  have  already  published  on  the 
Philosophy  of  the  Human  Mind,  when  I  have  had  occa- 
sion to  speak  of  the  Pleasures  of  Imagination,  I  have  em- 
ployed that  phrase  to  denote  the  pleasures  which  arise 
from  ideal  creations  or  combinations,  in  contradistinction 
to  those  derived  from  the  realities  which  human  life  pre- 
sents to  our  senses.  Mr.  Addison,  in  his  well-krtown  and 
justly  admired  papers  on  this  subject,  uses  the  same  words 
in  a  more  extensive  acceptation;  to  express  the  pleasures 
which  beauty,  greatness,  or  novelty,  excite  in  the  mind, 
when  presented  to  it,  either  by  the  powers  of  perception, 
or  by  the  faculty  of  imagination;  distinguishing  these  two 
classes  of  agreeable  effects,  by  calling  the  one  primary, 
and  the  other  secondary  pleasures.  As  I  propose  to  con- 
fine myself,  in  this  Essay,  to  Beauty,  the  first  of  the  three 
qualities  mentioned  by  Addison,  it  is  unnecessary  for  me 
to  inquire,  how  far  his  enumeration  is  complete;  or  how 
far  his  classification  is  logical.  But,  as  I  shall  have  fre- 


232  ON  THE  BEAUTIFUL.  [Essay  I. 

quently  occasion,  in  the  sequel,  to  speak  of  the  Pleasures 
of  Imagination y  I  must  take  the  liberty  of  remarking,  in 
vindication  of  my  own  phraseology,  that  philosophical  pre- 
cision indispensably  requires  an  exclusive  limitation  of 
that  title  to  what  Mr.  Addison  calls  secondary  pleasures; 
because,  although  ultimately  founded  on  pleasures  deri- 
ved from  our  perceptive  powers,  they  are  yet  (as  will 
afterwards  appear)  characterized  by  some  very  remarka- 
ble circumstances,  peculiar  to  themselves.  It  is  true,  that 
when  we  enjoy  the  beauties  of  a  certain  class  of  external 
objects,  (for  example,  those  of  a  landscape,)  imagination 
is  often,  perhaps  always,  more  or  less  busy;  but  the  case 
is  the  same  with  various  other  intellectual  principles, 
which  must  operate,  in  a  greater  or  less  degree,  wherever 
men  are  to  be  found;  such  principles,  for  instance,  as  the 
association  of  ideas; — sympathy  with  the  enjoyments  of 
animated  beings; — or  a  speculative  curiosity  concerning 
the  uses  and  Jitnesses,  and  systematical  relations  which  are 
everywhere  conspicuous  in  nature;*  and,  therefore,  to 
refer  to  imagination  alone,  our  perception  of  these  beau- 
ties, together  with  all  the  various  enjoyments,  both  intel- 
lectual and  moral,  which  accompany  it,  is  to  sanction,  by 
our  very  definitions,  a  partial  and  erroneous  theory.  I 
shall,  accordingly,  in  this  and  in  the  following  essays,  con- 
tinue to  use  the  same  language  as  formerly;  separating, 
wherever  the  phenomena  in  question  will  admit  of  such 
a  separation,  the  pleasures  we  receive  immediately  by 

*  To  these  principles  must  be  added,  in  such  a  state  of  society  as 
ours,  the  numberless  acquired  habits  of  observation  and  of  thought, 
which  diversify  the  effects  of  the  very  same  perceptions  in  the  minds 
of  the  painter;  of  the  poet;  of  the  landscape-gardener;  of  the  farmer; 
of  the  civil  Or  the  military  engineer;  of  the  geological  theorist,  Sec. 
Sr.c.  Stc 

2 


Essay  I.J  ON  THE  BEAUTIFUL.  233 

our  senses,  from  those  which  depend  on  ideal  combina- 
tions formed  by  the  intellect.* 

Agreeably  to  this  distinction,  I  propose,  in  treating  of 
Beauty,  to  begin  with  considering  the  more  simple  and 
general  principles  on  which  depend  the  pleasures  that  we 
experience  in  the  case  of  actual  perception;  after  which, 
I  shall  proceed  to  investigate  the  sources  of  those  specific 
and  characteristical  charms  which  imagination  lends  to 
her  own  productions. 

*  What  Mr.  Addison  has  called  the  Pleasures  of  Imagination^ 
might  be  denominated,  more  correctly,  the  pleasures  we  receive 
from  the  objects  of  Taste;  a  power  of  the  mind  which  is  equally 
conversant  with  the  pleasures  arising  from  sensible  things,  and  with 
such  as  result  from  the  creations  of  human  genius. 


2G 


ON  THE  BEAUTIFUL. 

PART  FIRST. 

ON  THE  BEAUTIFUL,  WHEN   PRESENTED  IMMEDI- 
ATELY TO    OUR  SENSES. 


CHAPTER  FIRST. 

GENERAL  OBSERVATIONS  ON  THE  SUBJECT  OF  INQUIRY,  AND  ON  THE 
PLAN  UPON  WHICH  IT  IS  PROPOSED  TO  EXAMINE  IT. 

1  HE  word  Beauty,  and,  I  believe,  the  corresponding 
term  in  all  languages  whatever,  is  employed  in  a  great 
variety  of  acceptations,  which  seem,  on  a  superficial  view, 
to  have  very  little  connection  with  each  other;  and  among 
which  it  is  not  easy  to  trace  the  slightest  shade  of  common 
or  coincident  meaning.  It  always,  indeed,  denotes  some- 
thing which  gives  not  merely  pleasure  to  the  mind,  but  a 
certain  7'ejined  species  of  pleasure,  remote  from  those  gros- 
ser indulgences  which  are  common  to  us  with  the  brutes; 
but  it  is  not  applicable  universally  in  every  case  where 
such  refined  pleasures  are  received;  being  confined  to 
those  exclusively  which  form  the  proper  objects  of  intel- 
lectual Taste.  We  speak  of  beautiful  colours,  beautiful 
forms,  beautiful  pieces  of  music:*  We  speak  also  of  the 

*  "  There  is  nothing  singular  in  applying  the  word   beautij  to 
''  sounds.   The  ancients  observe  the  peculiar  dignity  of  the  senses 


Chap.  1.3  ON  THE  BEAUTIFUL.  235 

beauty  of  virtue;  of  the  beauty  of  poetical  composition;  of 
the  beauty  of  style  in  prose;  of  the  beauty  of  a  mathema- 
tical theorem;  of  the  beauty  of  a  philosophical  discovery. 
On  the  other  hand,  we  do  not  speak  of  beautiful  lastes, 
or  of  beautiful  smells;  nor  do  we  apply  this  epithet 
to  the  agreeable  softness,  or  smoothness,  or  warmth  of 
tangible  objects,  considered  solely  in  their  relation  to  our 
sense  of  fecling.f  Still  less  would  it  be  consistent  with  the 
common  use  of  language,  to  speak  of  the  beauty  of  high 
birth,  of  the  beauty  of  a  large  fortune,  or  of  the  beauty  of 
extensive  renown. 

It  has  long  been  a  favourite  problem  with  philosophers, 
to  ascertain  the  common  quality  or  qualities,  which  enti- 
tles a  thing  to  the  denomination  of  beautiful;  but  the 
success  of  their  speculations  has  been  so  inconsiderable, 
t^at  little  can  be  inferred  from  them  but  the  impossibility 
of  the  problem  to  which  they  have  been  directed.  The 
author  of  the  article  Beau  in  the  French  Encyclopedie^^ 
after  some  severe  strictures  on  the  solutions  proposed  by 
his  predecessors,  is  led,  at  last,  to  the  following  conclu- 
sions of  his  own,  which  he  announces  with  all  the  pomp 
of  discovery; — "  That  beauty  consists  in  the  perceptions 
*'  of  relations." — "  Place  beauty  in  the  perception  of  r^-- 

^'^of  seeing  and  hearing;  that  in  thfeir  objects  we  diiscern  the  YixXov 
"  which  we  don't  ascribe  to  the  objects  of  the  other  senses."—. 
Hutcheson's  Inquiuy  into  Beauty  and  Virtue,  Sect  2,  §  14. 

t  See  Note  (R). 

*  Diderot,  if  my  memory  does  not  deceive  me. — I  do  not  refer  to 
this  theory  on  account  of  its  merit,  for,  in  that  point  of  view,  it  is 
totally  unworthy  of  notice;  but  because  the  author  has  stated  more 
explicitly  than  any  other  whom  I  can  at  present  recollect,  the  fun- 
damental principle  on  which  his  inquiries  have  proceeded;  a  princi- 
ple common  to  him  with  all  the  other  theorists  on  the  same  subject, 
of  whom  I  have- any  knowledge. 


23G  ON  THE  BEAUTIFUL  [Essay  1. 

"  latiotis,  and  you  will  have  the  history  of  its  progress 
"  from  the  infancy  of  the  world  to  the  present  hour.  On  the 
*'  other  hand,  choose  for  the  distinguishing  characteristic 
**  of  the  beautiful  m  general,  any  other  quality  you  can 
"  possibly  imagine,  and  you  will  immediately  find  your 
**  notion  limited  in  its  applications,  to  the  modes  of  think- 
"  ing  prevalent  in  particular  countries,  or  at  particular 
**  periods  of  time.*  The  perception  of  relations  is  there- 
"  fore  the  foundation  of  the  beautiful;  and  it  is  this  per- 
*'  ception  which,  in  different  languages,  has  been  expres- 
"  sed  by  so  many  different  names,  all  of  them  denoting 
"different  modifications  of  the  same  general  idea." 

The  same  writer,  in  another  article,  defines  Beauty  "to 
"  be  the  power  of  exciting  in  us  the  perception  of  agree- 
*'  able  relatiojis;''''  to  which  definition,  he  adds  the  follow- 
ing clause:  "  I  have  said  agreeable,  in  order  to  adapt  my 
"  language  to  the  general  and  common  acceptation  of  the 
"  term  beauty;  but  I  believe,  that,  philosophically  speak- 
"  ing,  every  object  is  beautiful  which  is  fitted  to  excite 
"in  us  the  perception  of  relations.'^''  On  these  passages  I 
have  nothing  to  offer,  in  the  way  either  of  criticism  or 
of  comment;  as  I  must  fairly  acknowledge  my  incapacity 
to  seize  the  idea  which  the  author  means  to  convey.  To 
say  that  "  beauty  consists  in  the  perception  of  relations,'' 
without  specifying  what  these  relations  are;  and  afterwards, 
to  qualify  these  relations  by  the  epithet  agreeable,  in  de- 
ference to  popular  prejudices, — would  infer,  that  this  word 

*  This  is  the  only  intelligible  interpretation  I  am  able  to  put  on  llie 
original.  The  strictly  literal  version  is: — "  You  will  find  your  notion 
"concentrated  in  some  point  of  space  and  of  time."  (Votre  notion 
se  trouvera  tout-a-coup  concentree  dans  un  point  de  I'espace  et  dn 
tenis.) 


Chap.I.l  ON  THE  BEAUTIFUL.  237 

is  philosophicall^ap^licable  to  all  those  objects  which  are 
vulgarly  denominated  deformed  or  ugly;  inasmuch  as  a 
total  want  of  symmetry  and  proportion  in  the  parts  of  an 
object  does  not,  in  the  least,  diminish  the  number  of  rela- 
tions perceived:  not  to  mention,  that  the  same  definition 
would  exclude  from  the  denomination  of  beautiful  all  the 
different  modifications  of  colour;  as  well  as  various  other 
qualities  which,  according  to  the  common  use  of  lan- 
guage, fall  unquestionably  under  that  description.  On 
the  other  hand,  if  the  second,  and  more  restricted  defini- 
tion be  adhered  to,  (that  "  beauty  consists  in  the  percep- 
"  tion  of  such  relations  as  are  agreeable,'''')  no  progress  is 
made  towards  a  solution  of  the  difficulty.  To  inquire 
what  the  relations  are  which  are  agreeable  to  the  mind, 
would,  on  this  supposition,  be  only  the  original  problem 
concerning  the  nature  of  the  Beautiful,  proposed  in  a  dif- 
ferent, and.  more  circuitous  form. 

The  speculations  which  have  given  occasion  to  these 
remarks  have  evidently  originated  in  a  prejudice,  which 
has  descended  to  modern  times  from  the  scholastic  ages; 
— that  when  a  word  admits  of  a  variety  of  significations, 
these  different  significations  must  all  be  species  of  the 
same  genus;  and  must  consequently  include  some  essen- 
tial idea  common  to  every  individual  to  which  the  generic 
term  can  be  applied.  In  the  article  just  quoted,  this  pre- 
judice is  assumed  as  an  indisputable  maxim.  "  Beautiful 
"  is  a  term  which  we  apply  to  an  infinite  variety  of  things; 
*'  but,  by  whatever  circumstances  these  may  be  distin- 
"  guished  from  each  other,  it  is  certain,  either  that  we 
*'  make  a  false  application  of  the  word,  or  that  there  ex- 


238  ON  THE  BEAUTIFUL.  [Essay  I; 

**  ists,  in  all  of  them,  a  common  quality,  of  which  the 
**  term  Beautiful  is  the  sign."* 

Of  this  principle,  which  has  been  an  abundant  source 
of  obscurity  and  mystery  in  the  different  sciences,  it  would 
be  easy  to  expose  the  unsoundness  and  futility;  but,  on 
the  present  occasion,  I  shall  only  remind  my  readers  of 
the  absurdities  into  which  it  led  the  Aristotelians  on  the 
subject  of  causation; — the  ambiguity  of  the  word,  which, 
in  the  Greek  language,  corresponds  to  the  English  word 
causCy  having  suggested  to  them  the  vain  attempt  of 
tracing  the  common  idea  which,  in  the  case  of  any  effect^ 
belongs  to  the  efficient,  to  the  matter,  to  the  form,  and 
to  the  end.  The  idle  generalities  we  meet  with  in  other 
philosophers,  about  the  ideas  of  the  good,  the^^,  and  the 
becoming,  have  taken  their  rise  from  the  same  undue 
influence  of  popular  epithets  on  the  speculations  of  the 
learned. 

Socrates,  whose  plain  good  sense  appears  in  this,  as  in 
various  other  instances,  to  have  fortified  his  understand- 
ing to  a  wonderful  degree,  against  the  metaphysical  sub- 
tilties  which  misled  his  successors,  was  evidently  apprised 
fully  of  the  justness  of  the  foregoing  remarks; — if  any 
reliance  can  be  placed  on  the  account  given  by  Xenophon 
of  his  conversation  with  Aristippus  about  the  Good  and 
the  Beautiful.  '*  Aristippus  (we  are  told)  having  asked 
"  him,  if  he  knew  any  thing  that  was  good?" — "do  you 
**  ask  me  (said  Socrates)  if  I  know  any  thing  good  for  a 

*  Beau  est  un  terrae  que  nous  appliquons  a  une  infinite  d'etres. 
Mais,  quelque  difference  qu'il  y  ait  entre  ces  etres,  il  faut,  ou  que 
nous  fassions  une  fausse  application  du  terme  beau;  ou  qu'il  y  ait 
dans  tous  ces  etres  une  qualite  dont  le  terme  beau  soil  le  signe. 


Chap.  I.  J  ON  THE  BBAUTIPUL.  239 

''^Jever,  or  for  ar^  inflammation  in  the  eyes^  or  as  a  pre- 
"  servative  against  ^famine?'''' 

"By  no  means,  returned  the  other." — "  Nay,  then, 
"  (replied  Socrates,)  if  you  ask  me  concerning  a  good 
"  which  is  good  for  nothing,  I  know  of  none  such;  nor 
"  yet  do  I  desire  to  know  it." 

Aristippus  still  urging  him — "  but  do  you  know  (said 
"  he)  any  thing  Beautiful?" 

"  A  great  many,"  returned  Socrates. 

*'  Are  these  all  like  to  one  another?" 

"  Far  from  it,  Aristippus,  there  is  a  very  considerable 
"  difference  between  them." 

"  But  how  (said  Aristippus)  can  beauty  differ  from  beaii- 
"  ty?'''"^ — The  question  plainly  proceeded  on  the  same 
supposition  which  is  assumed  in  the  passage  quoted  above 
from  Diderot;  a  supposition  founded  (as  I  shall  endeavour 
to  shew)  on  a  total  misconception  of  the  nature  of  the  cir- 
cumstances, which,  in  the  history  of  language,  attach  dif- 
ferent meanings  to  the  same  words;  and  which  often,  by 
slow  and  insensible  gradations,  remove  them  to  such  a 
distance  from  their  primitive  or  radical  sense,  that  no  in- 
genuity can  trace  the  successive  steps  of  their  progress. 
The  variety  of  these  circumstances  is,  in  fact,  so  great, 
that  it  is  impossible  to  attempt  a  complete  enumeration 
of  them;  and  I  shall,  therefore,  select  a  few  of  the  cases,  in 
which  the  principle  now  in  question  appears  most  obvi- 
ously and  indisputably  to  fail. 

I  shall  begin  with  supposing,  that  the  letters  A,  B,  C, 
D,  E,' denote  a  series  of  objects;  that  A  possesses  some 
one  quality  in  common  with  B;  B  a  quality  in  common 

*  Translation  of  the  Memorabilia,  by  Mrs.  Fielding. 


240  ON  THE  BEAUTIFUL.  [Essay  t. 

with  C;  C  a  quality  in  common  with  D;  D  a  qiiahty  in 
common  with  E; — while,  at  the  same  time,  no  quality 
can  be  found  which  belongs  in  common  to  any  three  ob- 
jects in  the  series.  Is  it  not  conceivable,  that  the  affinity 
between  A  and  B  may  produce  a  transference  of  the 
name  of  the  first  to  the  second;  and  that,  in  consequence 
of  the  other  affinities  which  connect  the  remaining  objects 
together,  the  same  name  may  pass  in  succession  from  B 
to  C;  from  C  to  D;  and  from  D  to  E?  In  this  manner, 
a  common  appellation  will  arise  between  A  and  E,  al- 
though the  two  objects  may,  in  their  nature  and  proper- 
ties, be  so  widely  distant  from  each  other,  that  no  stretch 
of  imagination  can  conceive  how  the  thoughts  were  led 
from  the  former  to  the  latter.  The  transitions,  neverthe- 
less, may  have  been  all  so  easy  and  gradual,  that,  were 
they  successfully  detected  by  the  fortunate  ingenuity  of 
a  theorist,  we  should  instantly  recognize,  not  only  the 
verisimilitude,  but  the  truth  of  the  conjecture; — in  the 
same  way  as  we  admit,  with  the  confidence  of  intuitive 
conviction,  the  certainty  of  the  well-ki|own  etymological 
process  which  connects  the  Latin  preposition  e  or  ex 
with  the  English  substantive  stranger,  the  moment  that 
the  intermediate  links  of  the  chain  are  submitted  to  our 
examiniihon.* 

*  E,  ex,  extra,  extraneus,  etranc;cr,  stranger. 

The  very  same  prejudice  which  I  have  now  been  attempting  to 
refute  will  be  found  to  be  at  the  bottom  of  many  of  Mr.  Tooke's 
speculations  concerning  language. — "Johnson  (he  observes  in  the 
"  beginning  of  his  second  volume)  is  as  bold  and  profuse  in  assertion, 
"as  he  is  shy  and  sparing  in  explanation.  He  says,  that  right 
"  means — true.  Again,  that  it  means — Jiasdng  true  judgrnerit;  and— 
"  /lassifig'  a  judgment  according  to  the  truth  of  thingn.  Again,  that  it 
"  nutans-— /la/i/iy.  And  again,  that  it  meafis — per/iendicuhr.  And 
"again,  that  it  means — in  a  great,  degree." 

«  All 
9 


GJiap.  I.]  ON  THE  BEAUTIFUL,  241 

These  observations  may,  I  hope,  throw  some  additional 
light  on  a  distinction  pointed  out  by  Mr.  Knight,  in  his 
Analytical  Inquiry  into  the  Principles  of  Taste,  between 
the  transitive  and  the  metaphorical  meanings  of  a  word. 
*'  As  all  epithets"  (he  remarks)  "  employed  to  distinguish 
*' qualities  perceivable  only  by  intellect,  were  originally 
"  applied  to  objects  of  sense,  the  primary  words  in  all 
"  languages  belong  to  them;  and  are,  therefore,  applied 
"  transitively,  though  not  always  figuratively  to  objects 
"  of  intellect  or  imagination  "* 

The  distinction  appears  to  me  to  be  equally  just  and 
important;  and  as  the  epithet  transitive  expresses  clearly 
and  happily  the  idea  which  I  have  been  attempting  to 
convey  by  the  preceding  illustration,  I  shall  make  no 
scruple  to  adopt  it  in  preference  to  figurative  or  metO' 
pliorical,  wherever  I  may  find  it  better  adapted  to  my 
purpose,  in  the  farther  prosecution  of  this  subject.  It 
may  not  be  altogether  superfluous  to  add,  that  I  use  the 
word  transitive  as  the  generic  term,  and  metaphorical  as 
the  specific;  every  metaphor  being  necessarily  a  transitive 
expression,  although  there  are  many  transitive  expres- 
sions, which  can,  with  no  propriety,  be  said  to  be  meta" 
phorical. 

A  French  author  of  the  highest  rank,  both  as  a  mathe- 
matician and  as  a  philosopher,   (M.  D'Alembert)   had 

"  All  false,  (Mr.  Tooke  adds)  absurd,  and  impossible."  (Vol.  ii. 
p.  5.) 

How  far  the  epithets  false  and  absurd  are  justly  applied  in  this 
instance,  I  do  not  presume  to  decide;  but  if  there  be  any  foundation 
for  the  preceding  remarks,  I  certainly  may  be  permitted  to  ask, 
upon  what  ground  Mr.  Tooke  has  concluded  his  climax  with  the 
word  i7nfiossiblc? 

*  Analvt.  Inquiry,  Sec  p.  11.  3d  edition. 

2H 


242  (^N  THE  BEAUTIFUL.  [Essty  T. 

plainly  the  same  distinction  in  his  view,  when  he  observ- 
ed, that,  beside  the  appropriate  and  the  figurative  mean- 
ings of  a  word,  there  is  another  (somewhat  intermediate 
between  the  former  two,)  which  may  be  called  its  mean- 
ing par  extension.  In  the  choice  of  this  piirase,  he  has 
certainly  been  less  fortunate  than  Mr.  Knight;  but,  as  he 
has  enlarged  upon  his  idea  at  some  length,  and  with  his 
usual  perspicuity  and  precision,  I  shall  borrow  a  few  of 
his  leading  remarks,  as  the  best  comment  I  can  offer  on 
what  I  have  already  stated;  taking  the  liberty  only,  to 
substitute  in  my  version,  the  epithet  transitive  instead  of 
the  phrase  par  extension^  wherever  the  latter  may  occur 
in  the  original. 

"  Grammarians  are  accustomed  to  distinguish  two  sorts 
"  of  meaning  in  words;  first,  the  literal,  original  orprimi- 
"  tive  meaning;  and,  secondly,  the  figurative  or  metapho- 
"  rical  meaning,  in  which  the  former  is  transferred  to  an 
"  object  to  which  it  is  not  naturally  adapted.  In  the 
"  phrases,  for  example,  l^ eclat  de  la  lumiere^  and  V eclat  de 
"  la  vertu^  the  word  eclat  is  first  employed  literally,  and 
"  afterwards  figuratively.  But,  besides  these,  there  is  a 
"  sort  of  intermediate  meaning,  which  may  be  distinguish- 
"  ed  by  the  epithet  transitive.  Thus,  when  I  say,  Veclat 
"  de  la  lumierCy  Veclat  dii  so7i,  Veclat  de  la  vertu,  the  word 
"  eclat  is  applied  transitively  from  light  to  ?ioise;  from  the 
*'  sense  of  sight  to  which  it  properly  belongs,  to  that  of 
'■^hearing,  ^^'ith  which  it  has  no  original  connection.  It 
'•  would,  at  the  same  time,  be  incorrect  to  say,  that  the 
"  phrase  Veclat  dii  son^  is  figurative;  inasmuch  as  this  last 
*'  epithet  implies  the  application  to  some  intellectual  no- 
"  tion,  of  a  word  at  first  appropriated  to  an  object  of  the 
"  external  senses." 


Ghap.  I]  ON  THE  BEAUTIFUL?  243 

After  illustrating  this  criticism  by  various  other  exam- 
ples, the  author  proceeds  thus:  "  There  is  not,  perhaps, 
"  in  the  French  language,  a  single  word  susceptible  of 
"  various  interpretations,  of  which  the  different  meanings 
"  may  not  all  be  traced  from  one  common  root,  b}^  ex- 
'*  amining  the  manner  in  which  the  radical  idea  has  pas- 
"  sed,  by  slight  gradations,  into  the  other  senses  in  which 
**  the  word  is  employed:  And  it  would,  in  my  opinion, 
*'  be  an  undertaking  equally  philosophical  and  useful,  to 
"  mark,  in  a  dictionary,  all  the  possible  shades  of  signifi- 
"  cation  belonging  to  the  same  expression,  and  to  exhibit, 
"  in  succession,  the  easy  transitions  by  which  the  mind 
"  might  have  proceeded  from  the  first  to  the  last  term  of 
"the  series."* 

In  addition  to  these  excellent  remarks,  (which  I  do  not 
recollect  to  have  seen  referred  to  by  any  succeeding  wri- 
ter) I  have  to  observe  farther,  that,  among  the  innumer- 
able applications  of  language  which  fall  under  the  general 
title  of  transitive,  there  are  many  which  are  the  result  of 
local  or  of  casual  associations;  while  others  have  their 
origin  in  the  constituent  principles  of  human  nature,  or  in 
the  universal  circumstances  of  the  human  race.  The  for- 
mer seem  to  have  been  the  transitions  which  D'Alembert 
had  in  his  view  in  the  foregoing  quotation;  and  to  trace 
them  belongs  properly  to  the  compilers  of  etymological 
and  critical  dictionaries.  The  latter  form  a  most  interest- 
ing object  of  examination  to  all  who  prosecute  the  study 
of  the  human  mind;  more  particularly,  to  those  who  wish 
to  investigate  the  principles  of  philosophical  criticism.  A 

*  Eclaircissemens  sur  les  Elemens  de  Philosophic,  §  ix. 


544  ON  THE  BEAUTIFUL.  (Tlasay  \. 

few  slight  observations  on  both  may  be  useful,  in  prepar- 
ing the  way  for  the  discussions  which  are  to  follow. 

1.  That  new  applications  of  words  have  been  frequently 
suggested  by  habits  of  association  peculiar  to  the  indivi- 
du  Is  by  whom  they  were  first  introduced,  or  resulting 
naturally  from  the  limited  variety  of  ideas  presented  to 
them  in  the  course  of  their  professional  employments,  is 
matter  of  obvious  and  common  remark.  The  genius  even 
of  some  languages,  has  been  supposed  to  be  thus  affected 
by  the  pursuits  which  chiefly  engrossed  the  attention  of 
the  nations  by  which  they  were  spoken;  the  genius  of  the 
Latin,  for  instance,  by  the  habitual  attention  of  the  Ro- 
mans to  military  operations;*  that  of  the  Dutch  by  the 
early  and  universal  familiarity  of  the  inhabitants  of  Hol- 
land with  the  details  connected  with  inland  navigation,  or 
with  a  sea- faring  life.  It  has  been  remarked  by  several 
writers,  that  the  Latin  word  mtervallumy  was  evidently 
borrowed  from  the  appropriate  phraseology  of  a  camp; 
inter  vallos  spatium, — the  space  between  the  stakes  or 
palisades,  which  strengthened  the  rampart.  None  of  them, 
however,  has  taken  any  notice  of  the  insensible  transitions 
by  which  it  came  successively  to  be  employed  in  a  more 
enlarged  sense;  first,  to  express  a  limited  portion  of  longi- 
tudinal extension  in  general;  and  afterwards  limited  por- 
tions of  time  as  well  as  of  space. f  "  Ut  qiwniam  inter- 

*  "  Medium  in  agmen,  in  pulverem,  in  claraorem,  in  castra,  atque 
*'  aciem  forensem." — Cic.  dc  Oraiore. 

t  How  remote  are  some  of  the  following  applications  of  the  woi*d 
from  its  primitive  meaning! — 

"Niimcrnm  in  cadentibus  guttis,  quod  intervallis  distinguuntur, 
"-  notare  possumus." — Cic.  de  Orat. 

"  Dolor  si  longus,  levis:  dat  cjiim  intcrvalln   ct  rclaxat." — Cic. 
''  Acad. 

"  Vide 


Chap.  I.J  ON  THE  BEAUTIFUL.  245 

"  vallo  loco/um  et  temporum  disjuncti  sumus,  per  literas 
•'  tecum  quam  sapissime  colloquar .'''*  The  same  word  has 
passed  mto  our  language;  and  it  is  not  a  little  remarkable, 
that  it  is  now  so  exclusively  appropriated  to  time^  mat  tQ 
speak  of  the  interval  between  two  places  would  be  cen- 
sured as  a  mode  of  expression  not  agreeable  to  conlmon 
use.  Etymologies  of  this  sort  are,  when  satisfactorv^  or 
even  plausible,  amusing  and  instructive:  but  when  we 
consider  how  very  few  the  cases  are,  in  which  we  have 
access  thus  to  trace  words  to  their  first  origin,  it  must 
appear  manifest,  into  what  absurdities  the  position  of  the 
Encyclopedists  is  likely  to  lead  those  who  shall  adopt  it  as 
a  maxim  of  philosophical  investigation.* 

Other  accidents,  more  capricious  still,  sometimes  ope- 
rate on  language;  as  when  a  word  is  transferred  from  one 
object  or  event,  to  another,  merely  because  they  happened 
both  to  engross  public  attention  at  the  same  period.  The 
names'  applied  to  different  colours,  and  to  different  arti- 
cles of  female  dress,  from  the  characters  most  prominent 
at  the  moment  in  the  circles  of  fashion,  afford  sufficient 
instances  of  this  species  of  association. 

"  Vide  quantum  intervallum  sit  interjectum  inter  majorum  nos- 
«  trorum  consilia,  et  istorum  dementiam." — Cic.  pro  Rab. 

"  Neque  quisquam  hoc  Scipione  elegantius  intervalla  negotiorura 
"  otio  dispunxit." — Paterc. 

•A  considerable  number  of  the  idiomatical  turns  uf  French  ex- 
pression have  been  traced  to  the  ceremonial  of  Tournaments;  to  the 
sports  of  the  field;  and  to  the  attive  exercises  which  formed  the 
chief  amusement  of  the  feudal  nobility.  See  a  Dissertation  on  Gal- 
licisms (strongly  marked  with  the  ingenuity  and  refined  taste  of  the 
author)  by  M.  Suard,  of  the  French  Academy.  Similar  remarks 
may  be  extended  to  the  English  Tongue;  on  examining  which,  how- 
ever, it  will  be  found,  (as  might  be  expected  a  Jiriori,)  that  the 
sources  of  its  idiomatical  and  proverbial  phrases  are  incomparably 
more  diversified  than  those  of  the  French. 


245  ON  THE  BEAUTIFUL.  (^Essay  I. 

But,  even  where  the  transference  cannot  be  censured 
as  at  all  capricious,  the  application  of  the  maxim  in  ques- 
tion will  be  found  equally  impracticable.  This,  I  appre- 
hend, happens  in  all  the  uses  of  language  suggested  by- 
analogy;  as  when  we  speak  of  the  morning  of  our  days; 
of  the  chequered  condition  of  human  life;  of  the  lights  of 
science;  or  of  the  rise  and  the  fall  of  empires.  In  all  these 
instances,  the  metaphors  are  happy  and  impressive;  but 
whatever  advantages  the  poet  or  the  orator  may  derive 
from  them,  the  most  accurate  analysis  of  the  different  sub- 
jects thus  brought  into  contact,  will  never  enable  the 
philosopher  to  form  one  new  conclusion  concerning  the 
nature  either  of  one  or  of  the  other.  I  mention  this  par- 
ticularly, because  it  has  been  too  little  attended  to  by  those 
who  have  speculated  concerning  the  powers  of  the  mind. 
The  words  which  denote  these  powers  are  all  borrowed 
(as  I  have  already  observed  repeatedly)  from  material  ob- 
jects, or  from  physical  operations;  and  it  seems  to  have 
been  very  generally  supposed,  that  this  implied  something 
common  in  the  nature  or  attributes  of  mind  and  of  matter. 
Hence  the  real  origin  of  those  analogical  theories  concern- 
ing the  former,  which,  instead  of  advancing  our  know- 
ledge with  respect  to  it,  have  operated  more  powerfully 
than  any  other  circumstances  whatever,  to  retard  the  pro- 
gress of  that  branch  of  science. 

There  are,  however,  no  cases,  in  which  the  transfer- 
ences of  words  are  more  remarkable,  than  when  the  mind 
is  strongly  influenced,  either  by  pleasurable  or  by  painful 
sensations.  The  disposition  we  have  to  combine  the  causes 
of  these,  even  when  they  arise  from  the  accidental  state 
of  our  own  imagination  or  temper,  with  the  external  ob- 
jects presented  simultaneously  to  our  organs  of  percep- 


Chap.  1.3  ON  THE  BEAUTIFUL.  247 

tion;  and  the  extreme  difficulty,  wherever  our  perceptions 
are  complex,  of  connecting  the  eftect  with  the  particular 
circumstances  on  which  it  really  depends,  must  necessa- 
rily produce  a  wide  difference  in  the  epithets  which  are 
employed  by  different  individuals,  to  characterize  the 
supposed  sources  of  the  pleasures  and  pains  which  they 
experience.  These  epithets,  too,  will  naturally  be  borrow- 
ed from  other  more  familiar  feelings,  to  which  they  bear, 
or  are  conceived  to  bear  some  resemblance;  and  hence  a 
peculiar  vagueness  and  looseness  in  the  language  we  use 
on  all  such  subjects,  and  a  variety  in  the  established 
modes  of  expression,  of  which  it  is  seldom  possible  to 
give  a  satisfactory  explanation. 

2.  But  although  by  far  the  greater  part  of  the  transi- 
tive or  derivative  applications  of  words  depend  on  casual 
and  unaccountable  caprices  of  the  feelings  or  of  the  fancy, 
there  are  certain  cases  in  which  they  open  a  very  inter- 
esting field  of  philosophical  speculation.  Such  are  those, 
in  which  an  analogous  transference  of  the  corresponding 
term  may  be  remarked  universally,  or  very  generalh',  in 
other  languages;  and  in  which,  of  course,  the  uniformity 
of  the  result  must  be  ascribed  to  the  essential  principles 
of  the  human  frame.  Even  in  such  cases,  however,  it 
will  by  no  means  be  always  found,  on  examination,  that 
the  various  applications  of  the  same  term  have  arisen 
from  any  common  quality,  or  qualities  in  the  objects  to 
which  they  relate.  In  the  greater  number  of  instances, 
they  may  be  traced  to  some  natural  and  universal  associa- 
tions of  ideas,  founded  in  the  common  faculties,  common 
organs,  and  common  condition  of  the  human  race;  and 
an  attempt  to  investigate  by  what  particular  process  this 
uniform  result  has  been  brought  about,  on  so  great  a 


248  ON  THE  BEAUTIFUL.  [Essay  I. 

variety  of  occasions,  while  it  has  no  tendency  to  involve 
us  in  the  unintelligible  abstractions  of  the  schools,  can 
scarcely  fail  to  throw  some  new  lights  on  the  history  of 
the  human  mind. 

I  shall  only  add,  at  present,  upon  this  preliminary  topic, 
that,  according  to  the  different  degrees  of  intimacy  and 
of  strength  in  the  associations  on  which  the  transitions 
of  language  are  founded,  very  different  effects  may  be 
expected  to  arise.  Where  the  association  is  slight  and 
casual,  the  several  meanings  will  remain  distinct  from 
each  other,  and  will  often,  in  process  of  time,  assume  the 
appearance  of  capricious  varieties  in  the  use  of  the  same 
arbitrary  sign.  Where  the  association  is  so  natural  and 
habitual,  as  to  become  virtually  indissoluble,  the  transitive 
meanings  will  coalesce  into  one  complex  conception;  and 
every  new  transition  will  become  a  more  comprehensive 
generalizatio7i  of  the  term  in  question. 

With  these  views,  I  now  proceed  to  offer  a  few  obser- 
vations on  the  successive  generalizations  of  that  word  of 
which  it  is  the  chief  object  of  this  Essay  to  illustrate  the 
import.  In  doing  so,  I  would  by  no  means  be  understood 
to  aim  at  any  new  theory  on  the  subject;  but  only  to  point 
out  what  seems  to  me  to  be  the  true  plan  on  which  it  ought 
to  be  studied.  If,  in  the  course  of  this  attempt,  I  shall  be 
allowed  to  have  struck  into  the  right  path,  and  to  have 
^suggested  some  useful  hints  to  my  successors,  I  shall  feel 
but  little  solicitude  about  the  criticisms  to  which  I  may 
expose  myself,  by  the  opinions  I  am  to  hazard  on  inci- 
dental or  collateral  questions,  not  essentially  connected 
with  my  general  design. 


Chap,  II.  i  ON  THE  BEAUTIFUL.  249 


CHAPTER  SECOND. 

PROGRESSIVE  GENERALIZATIONS  OF  THE  WORD  BEAUTY,  RESULTINO 
FROM  THE  NATURAL  PROGRESS  OF  THE  MIND. — BEAUTY  OF  CO- 
LOURS  OF     FORMS OF     MOTION. COMBINATIONS     OF     THESE.— 

UNIFORMITY  IN  WORKS  OF  ART. BEAUTY  OF  NATURE. 

Notwithstanding  the  great  variety  of  quaii- 

ties,  physical,  intellectual,  and  moral,  to  which  the  word 
beauty  is  applicable,  I  believe  it  will  be  admitted,  that,  in 
its  primitive  and  most  general  acceptation,  it  refers  to  ob- 
jects of  sight.  As  the  epithets  sweet  and  delicious  literally 
denote  what  is  pleasing  to  the  palate,  and  harmonious 
what  is  pleasing  to  the  ear;  as  the  epithets  soft  and  -warm 
denote  certain  qualities  that  are  pleasing  in  objects  of 
touch  or  of  feeling; — so  the  epithet  beautiful  literally  de- 
notes what  is  pleasing  to  the  eye.  All  these  epithets,  too, 
it  is  worthy  of  remark,  are  applied  transitively  to  the  per- 
ceptions of  other  senses.  We  speak  of  sweet  and  oi  soft 
sounds;  of  warm ^  of  delicious,  and  oi  harmomous  colourings 
with  as  little  impropriety,  as  of  a  beautiful  voice,  or  of  a 
beautiful  piece  of  music.  Mr.  Burke,  himself,  has  some- 
where spoken  of  the  soft  green  of  the  soul.  If  the  transitive 
applications  of  the  word  beauty  be  more  numerous  and 
more  heterogeneous  than  those  of  the  words  sweetness^ 
softness,  and  hnrmony,  is  it  not  probable  that  some  ac- 
count of  this  peculiarity  may  be  derived  from  the  com- 
parative multiplicity  of  those  perceptions  of  which  the 
eye  is  the  common  organ?  Such,  accordingly,  is  the  very 
simple  principle  on  which  the  following  speculations  pro- 

21 


250  ON  THE  BEAUTIFUL.  [Essiy  I. 

ceed;  and  which  it  is  the  chief  aim  of  these  speculations 
to  establish.  In  prosecuting  the  subject,  however,  I  shall 
not  fetter  myself  by  any  regular  plan,  but  shall  readily 
give  way  to  whatever  discussions  may  naturally  arise, 
either  from  my  own  conclusions,  or  from  the  remarks  I 
may  be  led  to  offer  on  the  theories  of  others. 

The  first  ideas  of  beauty  formed  by  the  mind,  are,  in  all 
probability,  derived  from  colours.*  Long  before  infants 
receive  any  pleasures  from  the  beauties  of  form  or  of  mo- 
tion, (both  of  which  require,  for  their  perception,  a  cer- 
tain effort  of  attention  and  of  thought)  their  eye  may  be 
caught  and  delighted  with  brilliant  colouring,  or  with 
splendid  illumination.  I  am  inclined,  too,  to  suspect,  that 
in  the  judgment  of  a  peasant,  this  ingredient  of  beauty 
predominates  over  every  other,  even  in  his  estimate  of 
the  perfections  of  the  female  form;!  and,  in  the  inanimate 
creation,  there  seems  to  be  little  else  which  he  beholds 
with  any  rapture.  It  is,  accordingly,  from  the  effect  pro- 

*  It  is,  accordingly,  upon  this  assumption  that  I  proceed  in  tracing 
the  progressive  generaUzations  of  these  ideas;  but  the  intelligent 
reader  will  immediately  pei'ceive,  that  this  supposition  is  not  essen- 
tially necessary  to  my  argument.  Supposing  the  first  ideas  of  beauty 
to  be  derived  from  forw.s^^  the  general  conclusions  which  I  wish  to 
establish  would  hiive  been  precisely  the  same.  In  the  case  of  a 
blind  man,  whatever  notions  he  attaches  to  the  word  beautiful  (which 
I  believe  to  be  very  different  from  ours)  must  necessarily  originate 
in  the  perception  of  such  forms  or  shapes  as  are  agreeable  to  his 
sense  of  touch;  combined,  perhaps,  with  the  grateful  sensations  con- 
nected with  softness,  smoothness,  and  warmth.  If  the  view  of  the 
subject  which  has  occurred  to  me  be  just,  an  easy  explanation  may 
be  deduced  from  it,  of  the  correct  and  consistent  use  of  poetical  lan- 
guage, in  speaking  of  objects  of  sight,  by  such  a  writer  as  the  late 
Dr.  Blacklock. 

t  T\q.  opinion  of  Shenstone,  on  a  point  of  this  sort,  is  of  some 
■weight.  "  It  is  probable"  (he  observes)  "  that  a  clown  would  require 
"  more  colour  in  his  Chloe's  face  than  a  courtier," 


Cliap.  n.3  ON  THE  BEAUTIFUL.  251 

duced  by  the  rich  painting  of  the  clouds,  when  gilded  by 
a  setting  sun,  that  Akenside  infers  the  existence  of  the 
seeds  of  taste,  where  it  is  impossible  to  trace  them  to  any 
hand  but  that  of  nature. 

"  Ask  the  swain 
"Who  journeys  homewards  from  a  svimmer-day's 
"  Long  labour,  why,  forgetful  of  his  toils, 
"  And  due  repose,  he  loiters  to  behold 
"  The  sunshine  gleaming,  as  through  amber  clouds, 
"  O'er  all  the  western  sky;  full  soon,  I  ween, 
"  His  rude  expression,  and  untutor'd  airs, 
"  Beyond  the  power  of  language,  will  unfold 
"  The  form  of  beauty  smiling  at  his  heart." 

Nor  is  it  only  in  the  judgment  of  the  infant  or  of  the 
peasant,  that  colours  rank  high  among  the  constituents  of 
the  beautiful.  The  spectacle  alluded  to  by  Akenside,  in 
the  foregoing  lines,  as  it  forms  the  most  pleasing  of  any 
to  the  untutored  mind,  so  it  continues,  after  the  experi- 
ence of  a  life  spent  in  the  cultivation  of  taste,  to  retain  its 
undiminished  attractions:  I  should  rather  say,  retains  all 
its  first  attractions,  heightened  by  many  stronger  ones  of 
a  moral  nature. 

"  Him  have  we  seen,  the  greenwood  side  along, 
"  As  o'er  the  heath  we  hied,  our  labour  done, 
"  Oft  as  the  wood-lark  piped  his  evening  song, 
"  With  wishful  eye  pursue  the  setting  sun." 

Such  is  one  of  the  characteristical  features  in  a  portrait, 
sketched  for  himself,  by  the  exquisite  pencil  of  Gray; 
presenting  an  interesting  counterpart  to  what  he  has  else- 
where said  of  the  poetical  visions  which  delighted  his 
childhood. 


252  ON  THE  BEAUTIFUL.  [Esssy  I 

*'  Oft  before  his  infant  eye  would  run 
"  Such  forms  as  glitter  in  the  muse's  ray, 
"  With  orient  hues." 

"  Among  the  several  kinds  of  beauty,**  (says  Mr.  Ad- 
"  dison)  the  eye  takes  most  delight  in  colours.  We  nowhere 
**  meet  with  a  more  glorious  or  pleasing  shew  in  nature, 
**  than  what  appears  in  the  heavens,  at  the  rising  and  set- 
"  ting  of  the  sun,  which  is  wholly  made  up  of  those  dif- 
**  ferent  stains  of  light,  that  shew  themselves  in  clouds  of 
"  a  different  situation.  For  this  reason  we  find  the  poets, 
"  who  are  always  addressing  themselves  to  the  imagina- 
*'  tion,  borrowing  more  of  their  epithets  from  colours  than 
''^from  any  other  topic.'*''* 

From  the  admiration  of  colours,  the  eye  gradually  ad- 
vances to  that  of  forms;  beginning  first  with  such  as  are 
most  obviously  regular.  Hence  the  pleasure  which  chil- 
dren, almost  without  exception,  express,  when  they  see 
gardens  laid  out  after  the  Dutch  manner;  and  hence  the 
justness  of  the  epithet  childish,  or  puerile,  which  is  com- 
monly employed  to  characterize  this  species  of  taste;— 
one  of  the  earliest  stages  of  its  progress  both  in  indivi- 
duals  and  in  nations. 

When,  in  addition  to  the  pleasures  connected  with 
colours,  external  objects  present  those  which  arise  from 
certain  modifications  oiform,  the  same  name  will  be  na- 
turally applied  to  both  the  causes  of  the  mixed  emotion. 
The  emotion  appears,  in  point  of  fact,  to  our  conscious- 
ness, simple  and  uncompounded,  no  person  being  able 
to  say,  while  it  is  felt,  how  much  of  the  effect  is  to  be 
?i8cribed  to  either  cause,  in  preference  to  the  other;  and  it 

*  Spectator,  No.  412. 


€hap.  n.}  ON  THE  BEAUTIFUL.  253 

is  the  philosopher  alone,  who  ever  thinks  of  attempting, 
by  a  series  of  observations  and  experiments,  to  accom- 
plish such  an  analysis.  The  following  expressions  of  Vir- 
gil shew  how  easily  the  fancv  confounds  these  two  ingre- 
dients of  the  beautiful  under  one  common  epithet.  "  Edera 
'-'' formosi(yr  alba.''''  "  O  formose  puer^  nimium  ne  crede 
"  coloriy  That  the  adjective ybnwo^w*  originally  referred 
to  the  beauty  oi form  alone,  is  manifest  from  its  etymo- 
logy; and  yet  it  would  appear  that,  even  to  the  correct 
taste  of  Virgil,  it  seemed  no  less  applicable  to  the  beauty 
of  colou?'. 

In  another  passage  the  same  epithet  is  employed,  by  the 
same  poet,  as  the  most  comprehensive  which  the  language 
afforded,  to  describe  the  countless  charms  of  nature,  in 
the  most  beautiful  season  of  the  year: 

"  Et  nunc  omnis  ager,  nunc  omnis  parturit  arbos; 
"  Nunc  frondent  sylvse,  nunc  formosissimus  annus." 

Similar  remarks  may  be  extended  to  the  word  Beauty, 
when  applied  to  motion,  a  species  of  beauty  which  may  be 
considered  as  in  part  a  modification  of  that  oiform;  being 
perceived  when  a  pleasing  outline  is  thus  sketched,  or 
traced  out,  to  the  spectator's  fimcy.  The  beauty  of  motion 
has,  however,  beside  this,  a  charm  peculiar  to  itself;  more 
particularly,  when  exhibited  by  an  animated  being;  above 
all,  when  exhibited  by  an  individual  of  our  own  species. 
In  these  cases,  it  produces  that  powerful  effect,  to  the  un- 
known cause  of  which  we  give  the  name  of  grace; — an 
effect  which  seems  to  depend,  in  no  inconsiderable  degree, 
on  the  additional  interest  which  the  pleasing  form  derives 
from  its  fugitive  and  evanescent  existence;  the  memory 
dwelling  fondly  on  the  charm  which  has  fled,  while  the 


254  ON  THE  BEAUTIFUL  [Essay  t 

eye  is  fascinated  with  the  expectation  of  what  is  to  follow. 
A  fascination,  somewhat  analogous  to  this,  is  experienced 
when  we  look  at  the  undulations  of  a  flag  streaming  to  the 
wind; — at  the  wreathings  and  convolutions  of  a  column 
of  smoke; — or  at  the  momentary  beauties  and  splendours 
of  fireworks,  amid  the  darkness  of  night.  In  the  human 
figure,  however,  the  enchanting  power  of  graceful  motion 
is  probably  owing  chiefly  to  the  living  expression  which 
it  exhibits; — an  expression  ever  renewed  and  ever  vari- 
ed,— of  taste  and  of  mental  elegance. 

From  the  combination  of  these  three  elements  (of 
colours^  of  Jbr?nSy  and  of  motion)  what  a  variety  of  cotn- 
plicated  results  may  be  conceived!  And  in  any  one  of 
these  results,  who  can  ascertain  the  respective  share  of 
each  element  in  its  production?  Is  it  wonderful,  then,  that 
the  word  Beauty,  supposing  it  at  first  to  have  been  applied 
to  colours  alone,  should  gradually  and  insensibly  acquire 
a  more  extensive  meaning? 

In  this  enlargement,  too,  of  the  signification  of  the 
word,  it  is  particularly  worthy  of  remark,  that  it  is  not 
in  consequence  of  the  discovery  of  any  quality  belonging 
in  common  to  colours,  to  forms,  and  to  motion,  con- 
sidered abstractly,  that  the  same  word  is  now  applied  to 
them  indiscriminately.  They  all  indeed  agree  in  this,  that 
they  give  pleasure  to  the  spectator;  but  there  cannot,  I 
think,  be  a  doubt,  that  they  please  on  principles  essentially 
different;  and  that  the  transference  of  the  word  Beauty, 
from  the  first  to  the  last,  arises  solely  from  their  undis- 
tinguishable  cooperation  in  producing  the  same  agreeable 
effect,  in  consequence  of  their  being  all  perceived  by  the 
same  organ,  and  at  the  same  instant. 

It  is  not  necessary  for  any  of  the  purposes  which  I  have 


Chap.  11.3  ON  THE  BEAUTIFUL.  255 

at  present  in  view,  that  I  should  attempt  to  investigate 
the  principles  on  which  colours,  forms,  or  motion,  give 
pleasure  to  the  eye.  With  the  greater  part  of  Mr.  Alison's  ' 
remarks,  on  these  qualities,  I  perfectly  agree;  although 
in  the  case  of  the  first,  I  am  disposed  to  ascribe  more  to 
the  mere  organic  impression,  independently  of  any  asso- 
ciation or  expression  whatever,  than  he  seems  wilUng  to 
allow. 

The  opinion,  however,  we  may  adopt  on  this  point  is 
of  little  importance  to  the  following  argument,  provided 
it  be  granted  that  each  of  these  classes  (comprehended 
under  the  generic  term  Beautiful)  ought,  in  a  philoso- 
phical inquiry  into  the  nature  of  Beauty,  to  form  the  ob- 
ject of  a  separate  investigation;  and  that  the  sources  of 
these  pleasing  effects  should  be  traced  in  analytical  detail, 
before  we  presume  to  decide  how  far  they  are  suscep- 
tible of  explanation  from  one  general  theory.  In  this  re- 
spect, Mr.  Alison's  work  seems  to  me  to  be  peculiarly 
valuable.  It  is  eminently  calculated  to  awaken  and  to 
direct  the  observation  of  his  readers  to  particular  pheno- 
mena, and  to  the  state  of  their  own  feelings;  and  whoever 
peruses  it  with  due  attention,  cannot  fail  to  be  satisfied, 
that  the  metaphysical  generalizations  which  have  been  so 
often  attempted  on  this  subject,  are  not  more  unsuccessful 
in  their  execution,  than  they  are  unphilosophical  in  their 
design. 

Mr.  Hogarth  and  Mr.  Burke  are  also  entitled  to  much 
praise,  for  a  variety  of  original  and  just  remarks,  with 
which  they  have  enriched  this  part  of  the  Philosophy  of 
the  Human  Mind.  But  although  they  appear  to  have 
aimed  at  a  plan  of  inquiry  founded  on  the  rules  of  a  sound  , 
logic;  and  although  their  good  sense  has  kept  them  at  a 


256  ON  THE  BEAUTIFUL.  [Essay  I. 

distance  from  that  vague  and  mysterious  phraseology  con- 
cerning Beauty  in  general,  in  which  so  many  of  their 
predecessors  delighted,  they  have,  nevertheless,  been  fre- 
quently  misled  by  the  spirit  of  system;  attempting  to 
erect  the  critical  inferences  which  their  good  taste  had 
formed  in  some  particular  departments  of  the  fine  arts, 
into  established  maxims  of  universal  application.  The 
justness  of  this  criticism,  so  far  as  it  refers  to  Hogarth, 
has  been  shewn  in  a  very  satisfactory  manner  by  Mr.  Al- 
ison; and  it  Will  appear,  in  the  course  of  our  present 
speculations,  that  Mr.  Burke  falls,  at  least  in  an  equal  de- 
gree, under  the  same  censure.  Before,  however,  I  proceed 
to  any  comments  on  the  conclusions  of  this  eminent 
writer,  it  is  necessary  for  me,  in  the  first  place,  to  follow 
out,  a  few  steps  farther,  the  natural  progress  or  history 
of  the  mind,  in  its  conceptions  of  the  Beautiful. 

I  have  already  taken  notice  of  the  pleasure  which  chil- 
dren very  early  manifest  at  the  sight  of  regular  forms, 
and  uniform  arrangements.  The  principles  on  which  these 
produce  their  effects,  and  which  render  one  regular  form 
more  pleasing  than  another,  have  engaged  the  attention 
of  various  authors;  but  it  is  sufficient  for  my  purpose  if 
the  general  fact  be  admitted;  and  about  this  there  cannot 
possibly  be  any  room  for  dispute.  With  respect  to  the 
theories  which  profess  to  account  for  the  phenomena  in 
question,  I  must  own,  that  they  appear  to  mc  more  fan- 
ciful than  solid;  although  I  am  far  from  being  disposed  to 
insinuate,  that  they  are  totally  destitute  of  foundation. 

The  same  love  of  regrular  forms,  and  of  uniform  ar- 
rangements,  continues  to  influence  powerfully,  in  the  ma- 
turity of  reason  and  experience,  the  judgments  we  pro- 
nounce on  all  works  of  human  art,  where  regularity  and 


0iap,n.]  GN  THE  BEAUTIFlfL.  237 

uniformity  do  not  interfere  with  purposes  of  utility.  In 
recommending  these  forms  and  arrangements,  in  the  par- 
ticular circumstances  just  mentioned,  there  is  one  princi- 
ple which  seems  to  me  to  have  no  inconsiderable  influence; 
and  which  I  shall  take  this  opportunity  of  hinting  at 
slightly,  as  I  do  not  recollect  to  have  seen  it  anywhere 
applied  to  questions  of  criticism.  The  principle  I  allude 
to  is,  that  of  the  sufficient  reasoriy  of  which  so  much  use  * 
is  made,  (and  in  my  opinion  sometimes  very  erroneously 
made)  in  the  philosophy  of  Leibnitz.  What  is  it  that,  in 
«ny  thing  which  is  merely  ornamental,  and  which,  at  the 
same  time,  does  not  profess  to  be  an  imitation  of  nature, 
renders  irregular  forms  displeasing?  Is  it  not,  at  least  in 
part,  that  irregularities  are  infinite;  and  that  no  circum- 
stance can  be  imagined  which  should  have  decided  the 
choice  of  the  artist  in  favour  of  that  particular  figure 
which  he  has  selected?  The  variety  of  regular  figures  (it 
must  be  acknowledged)  is  infinite  also;  but  supposing  the 
choice  to  be  once  fixed  about  the  number  of  sides,  no  ap- 
parent caprice  of  the  artist  in  adjusting  their  relative  pro- 
portions,  presents  a  disagreeable  and  inexplicable  puzzle 
to  the  spectator.  Is  it  not  also  owing,  in  part,  to  this,  that 
in  things  merely  ornamental,  where  no  use,  even  the 
most  trifling,  is  intended,  the  circular  form  possesses  a 
superiority  over  all  others? 

In  a  house,  which  is  completely  detached  from  all  other 
buildings,  and  which  stands  on  a  perfectly  level  founda- 
tion, why  arc  we  oSended  when  the  door  is  not  placed  ex- 
actly in  the  middle;  or  when  there  is  a  window  on  one 
side  of  the  door,  and  none  corresponding  to  it  on  the  other? 
Is  it  not  that  we  are  at  a  loss  to  conceive  how  the  choice 

•f  the  architect  could  be  thus  determined,  where  all  cir- 

2  K 


258  ON  TllK  BEAUTIFUL.  t'Eisay  I. 

cumstances  appear  to  be  so  exactly  alike?  This  disagree- 
able effect  is,  in  a  great  measure,  removed,  the  moment 
any  purpose  of  utility  is  discovered;  or  even  when  the 
contiguity  of  other  houses,  or  some  peculiarity  in  the 
shape  of  ground,  allows  us  to  imagine,  that  some  reason- 
able niotive  may  have  existed  in  the  artist's  mind,  though 
we  may  be  unable  to  trace  it.  An  irregular  castellated  edi- 
fice, set  down  on  a  dead  flat,  conveys  an  idea  of  whim  or 
of^folly  in  the  designer;  and  it  ^vould  convey  this  idea  still 
more  strongly  than  it  does,  were  it  not  that  the  imitation 
of  something  else,  which  we  have  previously  seen  with 
pleasure,  makes  the  absurdity  less  revolting.  The  same, 
or  yet  greater  irregularity,  would  not  only  satisfy,  but 
delight  the  eye,  in  an  ancient  citadel,  whose  ground- work 
and  elevations  followed  the  rugged  surf^ice  and  fantastic 
projections  of  the  rock  on  which  it  is  built.  The  oblique 
position  of  a  window  in  a  house,  would  be  intolerable; 
but  utility,  or  rather  necessity,  reconciles  the  eye  to  it  at 
at  once,  in  the  cabin  of  a  ship. 

In  hanging  up  against  the  wall  of  an  apartment  a  num- 
ber of  pictures,  of  different  forms  and  sizes,  the  same 
consideration  will  be  found  to  determine  the  propriety  of 
the  arrangement.  A  picture  placed  near  one  extremity  of 
the  wall  will  require  a  companion  at  the  same  distance 
from  the  other,  and  in  the  same  horizontal  line;  and  if 
there  is  any  one  which,  in  point  of  shape  or  size,  is  unique, 
it  must  be  placed  somewhere  in  the  vertical  line,  which 
is  equally  distant  from  both. 

Numberless  other  illustrations  of  this  principle  crowd 
on  me;  but  I  have  already  said  enough  to  explain  the  no- 
tion which  I  annex  to  it,  and  perhaps  more  than,  to  some 
of  my  readers,  its  importance  may  appear  to  justify. 


eiiap.  II.]  ON  THE  BEAUTIFUL.  259 

The  remarks  which  have  now  been  made,  apply,  as  is 
obvious,  to  the  works  of  man  alone.  In  those  of  Nature, 
impressed,  as  they  are  every  where,  with  the  signatures 
of  Almighty  Power,  and  of  Unfathomable  Design,  we  do 
not  look  for  that  obvious  uniformity  of  plan  which  we  ex- 
pect to  find  in  the  productions  of  beings  endowed  with 
the  same  faculties,  and  actuated  by  the  same  motives 
as  ourselves.  A  deviation  from  uniformity,  on  the  contra- 
ry, in  the  grand  outlines  sketched  by  her  hand,  appears 
perfectly  suited  to  that  injinity  which  is  associated,  in  our 
conceptions,  with  all  her  operations;  while  it  enhances,  to 
an  astonishing  degree,  the  delight  arising  from  the  regu- 
larity which,  in  her  minuter  details,  she  every  where  scat- 
ters in  such  inexhaustible  profusion. 

It  is,  indeed,  by  very  slow  degrees,  that  this  taste  for 
natural  beauty  is  formed;  the  first  impulse  of  youth 
prompting  it  (as  I  before  hinted)  to  subject  nature  to 
rules  borrowed  from  the  arts  of  human  life.  When  such 
a  taste,  however,  is  at  length  acquired,  the  former  not 
only  appears  false,  but  ludicrous;  and  perishes  of  itself, 
without  any  danger  of  again  reviving. — The  associa- 
tions, on  the  other  hand,  by  which  the  love  of  nature  is 
strengthened,  having  their  root  in  far  higher  and  nobler 
principles  of  the  mind  than  those  attached  to  the  puerile 
judgments  which  they  gradually  supplant,  are  invariably- 
confirmed  more  and  more,  in  proportion  to  the  advance- 
ment  of  reason,  and  the  enlargement  of  experience. 

The  traces  of  art,  which  formerly  lent  an  additional 
charm  to  the  natural  beauties  which  it  was  employed  to 
heighten,  become  now  themselves  offensive,  Vk'herever 
they  appear;  and  even  when  it  has  been  successfully  ex- 
erted in  supplying  defects  and  correcting  blemishes,  the 


iCO  UN  THE  BEAUTIFl>L.  l^Ess*}  k 

effect  is  destroyed,  in  proportion  as  its  interposition  is 
visible.  The  last  stage  of  taste,  therefore,  in  the  progress 
of  its  improvement,  leads  to  the  admiration  of  what  Mar- 
tial calls — Rus  verum  et  barharum; 

«  Where,  if  Art 
"  E'er  dar'd  to  tread,  'twas  with  unsandal'd  foot, 
*'  Printless,  as  if  the  place  were  holy  ground." 

To  analyse  the  different  ingredients  of  the  Beauty 
which  scenery  of  this  kind  presents  to  an  eye  qualified  to 
enjoy  it,  is  a  task  which  I  do  not  mean  to  attempt;  per- 
haps a  task  to  which  the  faculties  of  man  are  not  com- 
pletely adequate.  Not  that  this  furnishes  any  objection  t® 
the  inquiry,  or  diminishes  the  value  of  such  approxima- 
tions to  the  truth,  as  we  are  able  to  establish  on  a  solid 
induction.  But  I  confess  it  appears  to  me,  that  few  of 
our  best  writers  on  the  subject  have  been  sufficiently 
aware  of  its  difficulty;  and  that  they  have  all  shewn  a 
disposition  to  bestow  upon  observations,  collected  from 
particular  classes  of  facts,  (and  perhaps  accurately  and 
happily  collected  from  these)  a  universality  of  application 
little  suited  to  the  multiplicity  and  variety  of  the  pheno- 
mena which  they  profess  to  explain.*  That  this  remark 
is  not  hazarded  rashly,  will,  if  I  do  not  deceive  myself, 
appear  sufficiently  from  the  critical  strictures  on  some  of 
Mr.  Burke's  principles  which  I  find  it  necessary  to  intro- 
duce here,  in  order  to  obviate  certain  objections  which 
are  likely  to  occur  to  his  followers,  against  the  general 
scope  of  the  foregoing  doctrines.  The  digression  may 
appear  long  to  some  of  my  readers;  but  I  could  not  hope 
to  engage  any  attention  to  the  sequel  of  these  discussions, 

•  See  Note  (S). 


(^hap.  II.J  ON  THE  BKAXJTIFUL.  261 

till  I  had  first  endeavoured  to  remove  the  chief  stumbling- 
blocks,  which  a  theory,  recommended  by  so  illustrious  a 
name,  has  thrown  in  my  way.  In  the  animadversions, 
besides,  which  I  have  to  offer  on  Mr.  Burke,  I  flatter  my- 
self I  shall  have  an  opportunity  of  unfolding  my  own 
ideas  more  clearly  and  fully,  than  I  could  have  done  by 
stating  them  at  once  in  a  connected  and  didactic  form^ 


262  «N  THB  lEAUTirUL.  [E«s«y  L 


CHAPTER  THIRD. 

nEMAIlKS  ON  SOME  OF  MR,  BURKE's  PRINCIPLES  WHICH  DO  NOT  AGREE 
WITH  THE  FOREGOING  CONCLUSIONS. 

Among  the  various  writers  who  have  turned  their  at- 
tention  to  the  Beautiful,  with  a  design  to  trace  the  origin, 
and  to  define  the  nature  of  that  idea,  there  is,  perhaps, 
none  who  has  engaged  in  the  inquiry  with  views  more 
comprehensive  and  just  than  Mr.  Burke;  but,  even  with 
respect  to  him,  it  may  be  fairly  questioned,  if  any  one  of 
the  conclusions  to  which  he  has  been  led  concerning  the 
causes  of  beauty,  amounts  to  more  than  a  critical  inference, 
applicable  to  some  particular  class  or  classes  of  the  phe- 
nomena in  question. 

In  examining  the  opinions  of  this  author,  it  seems  to 
me  extremely  worthy  of  observation,  that  although  his 
good  sense  has  resisted  completely  the  metaphysical  mys- 
teries of  the  schools,  he  has  suffered  himself  to  be  led 
astray  by  a  predilection  for  that  hypothetical  physiology 
concerning  the  connection  between  mind  and  matter, 
which  has  become  so  fashionable  of  late  years.*    His 

•  This  sort  of  philosophy  was  much  in  vogue,  all  over  Europe, 
about  the  time  when  Mr.  Burke's  book  first  appeared; — in  conse- 
quence, perhaps,  chiefly  of  the  enthusiastic  admiration  every  where 
excited  by  the  Spirit  of  Laws,  then  recently  published.  The  micro- 
scopical observations  on  the  papillae  of  a  sheep's  tongue,  to  which 
Montesquieu  has  ihere  appealed  in  his  reasonings  concerning  the 
operafion  of  physical  causes  on  the  mind,  bear  a  remarkable  resem- 
blance to  some  of  irr,'  data  assumed  by  Mr.  Burke  in  his  physiolo- 
gical conclusions  with  respect  to  our  perception  of  the  beautiful. 

Some* 


Chap. Ill]  ON  THE  BEAUTIFUL.  263 

generalizations,  too,  proceed  on  an  assumption,  not  indeed 
so  unlimited  as  that  already  quoted  from  the  Encyclope- 
dic^ but  yet  much  more  extensive  than  the  nature  of  the 
subject  will  admit  of; — That,  in  the  objects  of  all  our 
different  external  senses,  there  is  some  common  quality 
to  which  the  epithet  Beautiful  may  be  applied;  and  that 
this  epithet,  in  all  these  different  cases,  conveys  the  same 
meaning.  Instead,  for  example,  of  supposing  (agreeably 
to  the  doctrine  which  I  have  already  suggested)  that  the 
epithet  in  question  is  applied  to  colours  and  to  forms ^  in 
consequence  of  their  both  producing  their  pleasing  effects 
through  the  medium  of  the  same  organ,  he  endeavours  to 
shew,  that  there  is  an  analogy  between  these  two  classes  of 
our  pleasure;  or,  to  use  his  own  words,  that  "  the  beauty 
**  both  oi  shape  and  colourings  are  as  nearly  related  as  we 
"  can  well  suppose  it  possible  for  things  of  such  different 
"  natures  to  be."*  In  both  cases,  he  asserts,  that  the 
beautiful  object  has  a  tendency  to  produce  an  agreeable 
relaxation  in  the  fibres;  and  it  is  in  this  tendency  that  he 
conceives  the  essence  of  the  Beautiful  to  consist.  In  far- 
ther  illustration  of  this,  he  observes,  "  that  smooth  things 
*'  are  relaxing;  that  sweet  things,  which  are  the  smooth  of 
"  taste,  are  relaxing  too;  and  that  sxveet  smells^  which  bear 
"  a  great  affinity  to  sweet  tastes,  relax  very  remarkably." 
He  adds,  that  "  we  often  apply  the  quality  of  sweetness 
"  metaphorically  to  visual  objects;"  after  which  observa- 
tion, he  proposes,  *'  for  the  better  carrying  on  this  re- 

Somcthing,  also,  which  looks  like  an  imitation  of  the  same  great 
man,  is  observable  in  the  extreme  shortness  and  abruptness  of  the 
sections,  which  incessantly  interrupt  the  natural  flow  of  Mr.  Burke'^ 
composition. 

*  Part  III.  sect.  17. 


264,  ON  THE  BEAUTIFUL.  [Es»ay  i 

*'  markable  analogy  of  the  senses,  to  call  sweetness  the 
'*  beautiful  of  the  tasted 

In  order  to  convey  a  still  more  adequate  idea  of  Mr. 
Burke's  mode  of  philosophizing  on  this  subject,  I  shall 
quote  a  few  of  his  remarks  on  the  causes,  *'  why  smooth- 
"  ness  and  sweetness  are  beautiful.''  The  quotation  is 
longer  than  I  could  have  wished;  but  I  was  unwilling  to 
attempt  an  abridgment  of  it  in  my  own  words,  from  my 
anxiety  that  his  reasoning  should  have  all  the  advantages 
which  it  may  derive  from  his  peculiar  felicity  of  expres- 
sion. 

"  There  can  be  no  doubt,  that  bodies  which  are  rough 
"  and  angular,  rouse  and  vellicate  the  organs  of  feeling; 
*'  causing  a  sense  of  pain,  which  consists  in  the  violent 
"  tension  or  contraction  of  the  muscular  fibres.  On  the 
"contrary,  the  application  of  smooth  bodies  relax: — gen- 
'*  tie  stroking  with  a  smooth  hand  allays  violent  pains  and 
"  cramps,  and  relaxes  the  suffering  parts  from  their  un- 
''  natural  tension;  and  it  has,  therefore,  very  often,  no 
"mean  effect  in  removing  swellings  and  obstructions. 
"  The  sense  of  feeling  is  highly  gratified  with  smooth 
"  bodies.  A  bed  smoothly  laid  and  soft,  that  is,  where  the 
*'  resistance  is  every  way  inconsiderable,  is  a  great  luxury; 
*  disposing  to  an  universal  relaxation,  and  inducing,  be- 
•'yond  any  thing  else,  that  species  of  it  called  sleep. 

*'  Nor  is  it  only  in  the  touch  that  smooth  bodies  cause 
"  positive  pleasure  by  relaxation.  In  the  smell  and  taste 
"  we  find  all  things  agreeable  to  them,  and  which  are  com- 
'^  monly  called  sweet,  to  be  of  a  smooth  nature,*  and  that 

*  In  this  part  of  his  theory,  Mr.  Burke  has  very  closely  followed 

Lucretius,  whose  fancy  anticipated  the  same  hypothesis,  without  the 

aid  of  microscopical  observation. 

"  Hue 


efiAp.  mo  ON  TFIE  BEAUTIFUL.  ^5 

"  they  all  evidently  tend  to  relax  their  respective  senso- 
"  ries.  Let  us  first  consider  the  taste.  Since  it  is  most 
"  easy  to  inquire  into  the  properties  of  liquids,  and  since 
"  all  things  seem  to  want  a  fluid  vehicle  to  make  them 
"  tasted  at  all,  I  intend  rather  to  consider  the  liquid  than 
"  the  solid  parts  of  our  food.  The  vehicles  of  all  tastes  pre 
"  water  and  oil.  And  what  determines  the  taste,  is  some 
"  salt  which  affects  variously,  according  to  its  nature,  or 
"  its  manner  of  being  combined  with  other  things.  Water 
"  and  oil,  simply  considered,  are  capable  of  giving  some 
"  pleasure  to  the  taste.  Water,  when  simple,  is  insipid, 
"  inodorous,  colourless,  and  smooth;  it  is  found,  when 
"  not  cold,  to  be  a  great  resolver  of  spasms,  and  lubrica- 
"  tor  of  the  fibres:  this  power  it  probably  owes  to  its 
*'  smoothness.  For,  as  fluidity  depends,  according  to  the 
*'  most  general  opinion,  on  the  roundness,  smoothness, 
"  and  weak  cohesion  of  the  component  parts  of  any  body, 
"  and,  as  water  acts  merely  as  a  simple  fluid,  it  follows, 
"  that  the  cause  of  its  fluidity  is  likewise  the  cause  of  its 
"  relaxing  quality;  namely,  the  smoothness  and  slippery 
"  texture  of  its  parts.  The  other  fluid  vehicle  of  tastes  is 
"  oil.  This  too,  when  simple,  is  insipid,  inodorous,  colour- 
"  less,  and  smooth  to  the  touch  and  taste.  It  is  smoother 

"  Hue  accedlt,  uti  mellis  lactisque  liquores 

"  Jiicundo  sensu  lingux,  tractentur  in  ore; 

"  At  contra  tetra  absintlu  natura,  ferique 

"  Centaurl  foedo  pertorquent  ora  sapore: 

"Ut  facile  agnoscas  e  laevibus,  atque  rotundis 

"Esse  ea,  quje  sensus  jucunde  tangere  possunt. 

"  At  contra,  quK  amara,  atque  aspera,  cunque  videntur, 

"  Hsec  magis  hamatis  inter  se  nexa  teneri; 

•'  Proptereaque  solera  vias  rescindere  nostris 

*'  Sensibus,  introituque  suo  perrumpere  corpus. 

"  Omnia  postremo,"  kc.  Lucret.  Lib.  II.  1,  398i 

The  continuation  of  the  passage  is  not  less  curious. 


266  ON  THE  BEAUTIFUL.  [Essay  I. 

"  than  water,  and,  in  many  cases,  yet  more  relaxing.  Oil 
"  is,  in  some  degree,  pleasant  to  the  eye,  the  touch,  and 
*'  the  taste,  insipid  as  it  is.  Water  is  not  so  grateful; 
"  which  I  do  not  know  on  what  principle  to  account  for, 
"  other  than  that  water  is  not  so  soft  and  smooth.  Suppose, 
"  that  to  this  oil,  or  water,  were  added  a  certain  quantity 
"  of  a  specific  salt,  which  had  a  power  of  putting  the 
*'  nervous papiliie  of  the  tongue  in  a  gentle  vibratory  mo- 
"  tion;  as  suppose  sugar  dissolved  in  it;  the  smoothness 
*'  of  the  oil,  and  the  vibratory  povver  of  the  salt,  cause  the 
*'  sense  we  call  sweetness.  In  all  sweet  bodies,  sugar,  or 
"  a  substance  very  little  different  from  sugar,  is  constantly 
",  found;  every  species  of  salt,  examined  by  the  micro- 
*'  scope,  has  its  own  distinct,  regular,  invariable  form. 
*'  That  of  nitre  is  a  pointed  oblong;  that  of  sea-salt  an 
*'  exact  cube;  that  of  sugar  a  perfect  globe.  If  you  have 
"  tried  how  smooth  globular  bodies,  as  the  marbles  with 
**  wliich  boys  amuse  themselves,  have  affected  the  touch, 
"  when  they  are  rolled  backward  and  forward,  and  over 
*'  one  another,  you  will  easily  conceive,  how  sweetness, 
"  which  consists  in  a  salt  of  such  nature,  affects  the  taste; 
"  for  a  single  globe,  (though  somewhat  pleasant  to  the 
*'  feeling)  yet,  by  the  regularity  of  its  form,  and  the 
*'  somewhat  too  sudden  deviation  of  its  parts  from  a  right 
"  line,  it  is  nothing  near  so  pleasant  to  the  touch  as  several 
"  globes,  where  the  hand  gently  rises  to  one,  and  falls  to 
"  another;  and  this  pleasure  is  greatly  increased,  if  the 
"  globes  are  in  motion,  and  sliding  over  one  another;  for 
"  this  soft  variety  prevents  that  weariness,  which  the  uni- 
*'  form  disposition  of  the  several  globes  would  otherwise 
"  produce.  Thus,  in  sweet  liquors,  the  parts  of  the  fluid 
*'  vehicle,  though  most  probably  round,  are  yet  so  minute, 


Chap,  m.]  ON  THE  BEAUTIFUL.  •     267 

•*  as  to  conceal  the  figure  of  their  component  parts  from 
^'  the  nicest  inquisition  of  the  microscope;  and  conse- 
*'  quently,  being^  so  excessively  minute,  they  have  a  sort 
*'  of  flat  simplicity  to  the  taste,  resembling  the  effects  of 
"  plain  smooth  bodies  to  the  touch;  for  if  a  body  be 
"  composed  of  round  parts,  excessively  small,  andpack- 
"  ed  pretty  closely  together,  the  surface  will  be  both  to 
*'  the  sight  and  touch,  as  if  it  were  nearly  plain  and 
"  smooth.  It  is  clear,  from  their  unveiling  their  figure  to 
**  the  microscope,  that  the  particles  of  sugar  are  con- 
"  siderably  larger  than  those  of  water  or  oil;  and  conse- 
"  quentl}',  that  their  effects,  from  their  roundness,  will  be 
"  more  distinct  and  palpable  to  the  nervous  papillas  of 
"  that  nice  organ  the  tongue.  They  will  induce  that  sense, 
"  called  sweetness,  which,  in  a  weak  manner,  we  disco- 
"  ver  in  oil,  and  in  a  yet  weaker  in  water;  for,  insipid  as 
"  they  are,  water  and  oil  are,  in  some  degree,  sweet;  and 
*'  it  may  be  observed,  that  insipid  things  of  all  kinds  ap- 
*'  proach  more  nearly  to  the  nature  of  sweetness,  than  t9 
*'  that  of  any  other  taste. 

"  In  the  other  senses,  we  have  remarked  that  smooth 
*'  things  are  relaxing.  Now,  it  ought  to  appear,  that  sweet 
"  things,  which  are  the  smooth  of  taste,  are  relaxing  too.'* 
— "  That  sweet  things  are  generally  relaxing,  is  evident, 
"  because  all  such,  especially  those  which  are  most  oily, 
*'  taken  frequently,  and  in  a  large  quantity,  very  much 
"  enfeeble  the  tone  of  the  stomach.  Sweet  smells,  which 
*'  bear  a  great  affinity  to  sweet  tastes,  relax  very  remark- 
"  ably.  The  smell  of  flowers  disposes  people  to  drowsi- 
"  ness;  and  this  relaxing  effect  is  further  apparent  from  the 
"  prejudice  which  people  of  weak  nerves  receive  from 
"  their  use," 


268  ON  THE  BEAUTIFUL.  [Essay  1, 

If  this  theory  of  Mr.  Burke  had  led  to  no  practical  con- 
sequences, I  should  not  have  thought  it  worth  while,  not- 
withstanding its  repugnance  to  my  own  opinions,  to  have 
made  any  reference  to  it  here;  but  as  it  is  intimately  con- 
nected with  some  of  his  subsequent  conclusions  concern- 
ing Beauty,  which  I  consider  as  not  only  unsound  in  their 
logical  foundation,  but  as  calculated  to  bias  and  mislead 
the  Taste,  I  was  anxious,  before  proceeding  to  an  exami- 
nation of  these,  to  satisfy  my  readers,  how  little  support 
they  derive  from  the  hypothetical  disquisitions  premised 
to  them,  in  order  to  prepare  the  way  for  their  more  easy 
admission.  As  for  the  physiological  discussion  itself,  I  aifl 
inclined  to  think,  that  few,  even  of  Mr.  Burke's  most  par- 
tial admirers,  will  now  be  disposed  to  estimate  its  merits 
very  highly.  By  some  others,  I  would  willingly  believe, 
that  it  may  be  valued  chiefly  as  an  illustration  of  the  absur- 
dities in  which  men  of  the  most  exalted  genius  are  sure 
to  involve  themselves,  the  moment  they  lose  sight,  in  their 
inquiries  concerning  the  human  mind,  of  the  sober  rules 
of  experimental  science. 


Chap.  IV-l  ON  THB  BEAUTIFUL.  269 


CHAPTER  FOURTH. 

CONTINUATION  OF  THE  CRITICAL  STRICTURES  ON  MR.  BURKE's  FUN- 

DAMENTAL     PRINCIPLES    CONCERNING    BEAUTY. INFLUENCE    OF 

THESE  PRINCIPLES  ON  THE  SPECULATIONS  OF  MR.  PRICE. 

IN  enumerating  the  qualities  constantly  observable  in 
beautiful  objects,  Mr.  Burke  lays  a  peculiar  stress  on 
that  oi  smoothness;  "  a  quality"  (he  observes)  "  so  essen- 
tial to  beauty,  that  he  cannot  recollect  any  thing  beau- 
tiful that  is  not  smooth.  In  trees  and  flowers,  smooth 
leaves  are  beautiful;  smooth  slopes  of  earth  in  gardens; 
smooth  streams  in  landscapes;  smooth  coats  of  birds  and 
beasts  in  animal  beauty;  in  fine  women,  smooth  skins; 
and,  in  several  sorts  of  ornamental  furniture,  smooth  and 
polished  surfaces.  A  very  considerable  part  of  the  effect 
of  beauty  is  owing  to  this  quality;  indeed  the  most  con- 
siderable. For,  take  any  beautiful  object,  and  give  it  a 
broken  and  rugged  surface,  and  however  well  formed 
it  may  be  in  other  respects,  it  pleases  no  longer.  Where- 
as, let  it  want  ever  so  many  of  the  other  constituents,  if 
it  wants  not  this,  it  becomes  more  pleasing  than  almost 
all  the  others  without  it.  This  seems  to  me"  (continues 
Mr.  Burke)  "  so  evident,  that  I  am  a  good  deal  surprised 
that  none  who  have  handled  the  subject,  have  made  any 
mention  of  the  quality  of  smoothness,  in  the  enumera- 
tion of  those  that  go  to  the  forming  of  beauty.  For, 
indeed,  any  rugged,  any  sudden  projection,  any  sharp 
angle,  is,  in  the  highest  degree,  contrary  to  that  idea." 


270  ON  THE  BEAUTn  UL,  pEssav  I. 

These  observations  contain  the  whole  of  Mr.  Burke's 
doctrine  on  this  essential  constituent  of  beauty;  and,  I 
confess,  I  cannot  recollect  any  philosophical  conclusion 
whatever,  more  erroneous  in  itself,  or  more  feebly  sup- 
ported. 

That  the  smootliness  of  many  objects  is  one  constitu- 
ent of  their  beauty,  cannot  be  disputed.  In  consequence 
of  that  intimate  association  which  is  formed  in  the  mind 
between  the  perceptions  of  sight  and  those  of  touch,  it 
is  reasonableM:o  expect,  that  those  qualities  which  give 
pleasure  to  the  latter  sense,  should  also  be  agreeable  to 
the  former.  Hence  the  agreeable  impression  which  the 
eye  receives  from  all  those  smooth  objects  about  which 
the  sense  of  touch  is  habitually  conversant;  and  hence,  in 
such  instances,  the  unpleasant  appearance  of  ruggedness, 
or  of  asperity.  The  agreeable  effect,  too,  of  smoothness 
is  often  heightened  by  its  reflecting  so  copiously  the  rays 
of  light;  as  in  the  surface  of  water,  in  polished  mirrors, 
and  in  the  fine  kinds  of  wood  employed  in  ornamental 
furniture.  In  some  instances,  besides,  as  in  the  last  now 
mentioned,  smoothness  derives  an  additional  recommen- 
dation from  its  being  considered  as  a  mark  of  finished 
work,  and  of  a  skilful  artist.* 

*  In  general,  we  consider  roughness  as  characterizing  the  produc- 
tions of  nature;  smoothness^  as  the  efl'ect  of  human  industry,  I  speak 
of  those  natural  productions  which  were  intended  to  furnish  the 
materials  of  our  various  arts.  In  other  cases,  as  in  the  plumage  of 
birds,  the  glossy  skins  of  many  quadrupeds,  8cc.  Sec.  Nature  has 
given  to  her  own  work  a  finished  perfection,  which  no  art  can  rival. 

By  an  easy  metaphor,  we  transfer  these  words  to  human  charac- 
ter. We  speak  of  rough  good  sense  as  familiarly  as  of  a  rough  dia- 
mond; while  to  the  artificial  manners  formed  by  the  intercourse  of 
the  world,  we  apply  the  epithets  smooth^  fiolishedyfiolite. 


Chap.  IV.3  ON  THE  BEAUTIFUL.  271 

To  all  this  we  may  add,  that  the  ideas  of  beauty  formed 
by  our  sex,  are  warped,  not  a  little,  by  the  notions  we  are 
led  to  entertain  concerning  the  charms  of  the  other.  That 
in  female  beauty,  a  smooth  skin  is  an  essential  ingredient, 
must  be  granted  in  favour  of  Mr.  Burke's  theory:  Nor  is 
it  at  all  difficult  to  conceive  how  this  association  may  in- 
fluence our  taste  in  various  other  instances.* 

Still,  however,  Mr.  Burke's  general  proposition  is  very 
far  from  holding  universally.  In  objects  which  have  little 

*The  idea  o{  female  beauty  was  evidently  uppermost  in  Mr. 
Burke's  mind,  when  he  wrote  his  book;  and  it  is  from  an  induction, 
confined  almost  exclusively  to  the  qualities  which  enter  into  its  com- 
position, that  he  draws  the  whole  of  his  inferences  with  respect  to 
beauty  in  general.  Even  in  treating  of  the  beauty  of  Nature,  his 
imagination  always  delights  to  repose  on  her  softest  and  most  femi- 
nine features;  or.  to  use  his  own  language,  on  "  s'uch  qualities  as  in- 
"  duce  in  us  a  sense  of  tenderness  and  affection,  or  some  other  pas- 
"  sion  the  most  nearly  resembling  these."  So  far  as  this  particular 
application  of  the  word  is  concerned,  the  induction  appears  to  me 
just  and  comprehensive;  and  I  readily  subscribe  to  the  opinion  of 
Mr.  Price,  when  he  assumes  it"  as  perfectly  clear,  that  Mr.  Burke's 
^^  general  [irinci III cs  of  beauty — smoothness,  gradual  variation,  deli- 
"  cacy  of  make,  tender  colours,  and  such  as  insensibly  melt  into 
"  each  other,  are  strictly  ap/ilicable  to  female  beauty;  so  much  so, 
"  that  not  one  of  them  can  be  changed  or  diminished  without  a  ma- 
"  nifest  diminution  of  beuuty." — (Essay  on  Beauty,  prefixed  to  Mr. 
Price's  Dialogue,  p.  22.) 

In  speculating  on  the  idea  of  the  beautiful  in  general^  it  seems  evi- 
dent, that  we  ought  to  begin  with  selecting  our  instances  from  ob- 
jects intended  to  produce  their  effect  on  the  eye  alone;  and  afterwards 
proceed  to  examine  the  various  modifications  of  this  idea,  produced 
by  associations  arising  from  the  perceptions  of  the  other  senses; — 
by  associations  of  a  moral  nature; — by  considerations  of  utility,  Sic. 
Sec.  &c.  By  following  the  opposite  plan,  and  fixing  (unconscioui^Iy 
perhaps)  on  female  beauty  as  his  standard,  Burke  has  fallen  into  the 
very  mistake,  against  which  he  has  so  judiciously  cautioned  his  read- 
ers; that  of  "  circumscribing  nature  within  the  bounds  of  a  partial 
"  definition  or  description." — (See  the  Essay  on  Taste,  prefixed  to 
the  Inquiry  into  the  Sublime  and  Beautiful.) 


272  ON  THE  BEAUTirut.  [Essay  I. 

or  no  relation  to  the  sense  of  touch,  it  fails  in  numberless 
instances.  What  more  beautiful  objects  in  nature,  than 
the  stalk  and  buds  of  the  moss-rose!  To  the  sense  of 
touch  they  are  positively  disagreeable;  but  we  think  of 
them  only  with  a  reference  to  the  sense  of  smelling  and 
sight;  and  the  effect  is,  on  the  whole,  delightful.* 

In  natural  objects,  too,  which  are  of  so  great  a  magni- 
tude that  we  never  think  of  subjecting  them  to  the  exa- 
mination of  touch,  as  well  as  in  artificial  objects,  which 
are  intended  to  be  placed  at  an  altitude  beyond  our  reach, 
roughness,  and  even  ruggedness,  may  often  be  consider- 
ed as  ingredients  of  beauty;  as  in  rock-scenery,  fretted 
ceilings,  and  various  other  cases.  The  fantastic  forms  of 
frost-work,  and  the  broken  surface  of  shell-work  in  arti- 
ficial grottos,  are  obvious  illustrations  of  the  same  remark. 

*  Mr.  Price  has  not  only  acknowledged  the  beauty  of  the  moss- 
rose,  but  has  conne(;ted  with  this  fact  some  others,  all  of  them  equally 
inconsistent,  in  my  opinion,  with  the  pecuHar  notions  which  he  has 
adopted  from  Mr.  Burke.  "  Flowers  are  the  most  delicate  and  beau- 
"  tiful  of  inanimate  objects;  but  their  queen,  the  rose,  grows  on  a 
"  rough  bush,  whose  leaves  are  serrated,  and  which  is  full  of  thorns. 
"  The  moss-rose  has  the  addition  of  a  rough  hairy  fringe,  that  almost 

"makes  a  part  of  the  flower  itself." "Among  the  foreign  oaks, 

"  maples.  Sec.  those  are  particularly  esteemed,  whose  leaves  (accord- 
^^  ing  to  a  common  though  /lerhafis  contradictory  phrase)  are  beauti- 

"  FULLY  JAGGED." • 

"  The  vine  leaf  has,  in  all  respects,  a  strong  resemblance  to  the 
"  leaf  of  the  plane,  and  that  extreme  richness  of  eflfect,  which  every 
"  body  must  be  struck  with  in  them  both,  is  greatly  owing  to  those 
"  sharp  angles,  those  sudden  variations,  so  contrary  to  the  idea  of 
"  beauty,  when  considered  by  itself."-  — "  The  effect  of  these 
"  jagged  points  and  angles  is  more  strongly  marked  in  sculpture, 
"  especially  of  vases  of  metal,  where  the  vine  leaf,  if  imprudently 
"  handled,  would  at  least  prove,  that  sharpness  is  very  contrary  to 
"  the  beautiful  in  feeling." — (Price  on  the  Picturesque,  p.  94,  et 
seq.) 

2     ' 


Chap.  rV.]  ON  THE  BEAUTIFUL.  273 

In  some  of  these  last  instances,  the  beauty  of  roughness 
arises,  in  part,  from  the  very  same  cause  which,  in  other 
cases,  gives  beauty  to  smoothness;  the  aptitude  of  the  ob- 
ject to  reflect,  in  an  agreeable  manner,  the  rays  of  light. 
Hence,  too,  the  beauty  of  the  brilliant  cut  in  diamonds, 
and  of  the  numberless  angular  forms  (so  contrary  to  Mr. 
Burke's  theory)  in  ornaments  of  cut  crystal. 

The  agreeable  effect  of  the  smooth  shaven  green  in  gar- 
dens, seems  also  to  arise  from  circumstances  foreign  to 
the  sense  of  sight;  particularly  from  the  ideas  of  comfort 
connected  with  the  use  which  is  to  be  made  of  them;  and 
the  intimations  they  convey  of  the  industry,  attention  and 
art,  employed  in  forming  them,  and  in  keeping  them  in 
order.  The  same  smoothness  and  trim  regularity  would 
make  a  very  different  impression,  if  we  should  meet  with 
them,  out  of  their  proper  place; — on  the  surface,  for  ex- 
ample, of  a  sheep-walk,  or  of  a  deer-park;  or  (where  we 
have  sometimes  the  misfortune  to  see  them)  in  the  imme- 
diate neighbourhood  of  a  venerable  ruin. 

In  the  section  immediately  following  that  to  which  I 
have  now  referred,  Mr.  Burke  observes  further,  "  That, 
"  as  perfectly  beautiful  bodies  are  not  composed  of  angu- 
"  lar  parts,  so  their  parts  never  continue  long  in  the  same 
"  right  line.  They  vary  their  direction  every  moment,  and 
"  they  change  under  the  eye,  by  a  deviation  continually 
"  carrying  on,  but  for  whose  beginning  or  end  you  will 
"  find  it  difficult  to  ascertain  a  point."  He  afterwards 
adds:  "  I  do  not  find  any  natural  object  which  is  angular, 
"  and  at  the  same  time  beautiful.  Indeed  few  natural 
*'  objects  are  entirely  angular.  But  I  think,  those  which 
'*  approach  the  most  nearly  to  it  are  the  ugliest." 

2M 


274  ON  THE  BEAUTIFUL,  [Essay  I. 

I'o  the  disagreeable  effect  which  is  here  ascribed  to 
angles,  the  same  remark  may  be  extended  which  was 
formerly  made  upon  roughness;  that  it  is  confined  chiefly 
to  things  destined  to  be  handled,  and  which  we  know 
from  experience  would  offend  or  injure  the  sense  of  touch. 
It  is  felt,  too,  in  some  cases,  in  which  objects  are  consi- 
dered in  relation  to  certain  uses  or  purposes  for  which 
they  are  intended;  as  in  the  sharp  and  inconvenient  turn- 
ings of  a  road.  But,  abstracting  from  these  and  other  an- 
alogous exceptions,  it  does  not  occur  to  me,  that  angles 
and  other  sudden  variations  are  offensive  to  the  eye.  I 
have  already  mentioned  the  angular  forms  of  cut  crystal, 
and  of  gems  which  have  passed  through  the  hands  of  the 
lapidary;  and  also  the  more  irregular  and  broken  shapes 
of  rock  scenery.  The  same  thing  is  still  more  strongly 
illustrated  in  such  spectacles  as  belong  to  the  sense  of  sight 
exclusively;  as  in  fire-works;  in  the  painting  and  gilding 
of  the  clouds;  and,  above  all,  in  the  zig-zag  course  of  the 
ragged  lightning. 

A  sharp  angle  is  offensive  in  a  river,  partly  because  the 
gentle  progress  of  the  stream  is  too  abruptly  and  rudely 
forced  into  a  new  direction;  but  chiefly,  because  the  usual 
and  natural  course  of  rivers  exhibits  a  dift'erent  appearance, 
in  consequence  of  the  gradual  influence  of  the  current  in 
wearing  whatever  is  angular  into  an  easy  and  sweeping 
curvature.  For  the  same  reason,  habit,  cooperating  with 
(what  is  always  agreeable)  a  clear  perception  of  the  phy- 
sical cause  by  which  a  geological  eft'ect  is  produced,  be- 
stows a  beauty  on  the  regular  correspondence  of  the 
saliant  and  reenteVing  angles  of  the  opposite  banks.  It 
is,  however,  curious,  and  a  strong  confirmation  of  the 


Chap.  IV.3  ON  THE  BEAUTIFlflL.  275 

truth  of  these  remarks,  that  we  judge  of  the  beauty  of  a 
lake  on  principles  perfectly  different;  and  that  nothing  in 
nature  can  be  conceived  more  pleasing,  than  when  its 
shores  are  deeply  indented  by  baj^s  and  creeks;  or  when 
sharp  promontories  advance  boldly  towards  each  other 
from  opposite  sides  of  the  water.  On  this  circumstance 
(as  the  Abbe  de  Lille  has  well  remarked)  is  founded  the 
characteristical  difference  between  the  beauties  of  a  lake 
and  those  of  a  river. 

"  Autant  que  la  riviere  en  sa  molle  souplesse 
"  D'un  rivage  anguleux  redout  la  rudesse, 
"  Autant  les  bords  aigus,  les  longs  enfoncettiens 
"  Sont  d'un  lac  etendu  les  plus  beaux  ornemens. 
"  Que  la  terre  tantot  s'avance  au  sein  des  ondes, 
"  Tantot  qu'elle  ouvre  aux  flots  des  retraites  profondes; 
."  Et  qu'ainsi  s'appellant  d'un  mutuel  amour, 
"  Et  la  terre  et  les  eaux  se  cherchent  tour-a-tour. 
*'  Ces  aspects  varies  amusent  votre  vue."* 

The  doctrine  which  I  have  been  now  controverting, 
with  respect  to  the  effects  of  smoothness  and  of  asperity, 
is  entitled  to  more  than  common  attention,  as  it  forms  the 
ground-work  of  a  very  ingenious  and  elegant  Essay  on 
the  Picturesque^  which,  for  several  years  past,  has  de- 
servedly attracted  a  great  deal  of  public  attention.  Indeed 
it  was  chieHy  with  a  view  to  this  work  (the  author  of 
which  seems  to  me  to  have  been  misled  in  his  phraseolo- 

*  Les  Jardins. — The  same  observation  had  been  previously  made 
by  Mr.  Wheatley,  in  his  "  Observations  on  Modern  Gardening,"  4th 
edit.  p.  66 — "  In  a  lake,  just  the  reverse  of  a  river,  creeks,  bays, 
"recesses  of  every  kind,  are  always  in  character,  sometimes  neces- 
<'  sary,  and  generally  beautiful:  the  objections  to  them  in  the  one,  are 
"  recommendations  of  them  in  the  other." 


276  ON  THE  BEAUTIFUL.  [EKxy  L 

gy,  and  in  some  of  his  theoretical  opinions,  by  too  im- 
plicit an  acquiescence  in  Mr.  Burke's  conclusions),  that 
I  was  led  to  select  the  subject  of  the  foregoing  discussion, 
in  preference  to  various  other  points  connected  with  the 
same  system,  which  I  consider  as  no  less  open  to  fair 
criticism. 

According  to  Mr.  Price,  the  circumstances  which  please, 
both  in  natural  scenes  and  in  the  compositions  of  the 
painter,  arc  of  twokinds;  the  Beautiful  and  the  Picturesque* 
These,  he  thinks,  are  radically  and  essentially  distinct; 
though  both  must  unite  together  in  order  to  produce  an 
effect  completely  agreeable.  Smoothness,  waving  lines, 
and  the  other  circumstances  mentioned  by  Burke,  are 
characteristical  of  the  Beautiful;  asperity,  sharp  angles, 
&c.  of  the  Picturesque. 

To  this  conclusion  Mr.  Price  was  naturally,  or  rather 
necessarily  led,  by  his  admission,  at  his  first  outset,  of 
Mr.  Burke's  peculiar  tenets  as  so  many  incontrovertible 
axioms.  In  the  progress  of  his  subsequent  researches,  find- 
ing numberless  ingredients  in  agreeable  compositions,  that 
could  not  be  brought  under  Burke's  enumeration  of  the 
qualities  which  "  go  to  the  composition  of  the  beautiful," 
he  was  forced  to  arrange  them  under  some  new  name; 
whereas,  he  ought  rather  to  have  concluded,  that  the  enu- 
meration was  partial  and  defective,  and  extended  the  ap- 
plication of  the  word  Beauty,  to  whatever  qualities  in  natu- 
ral objects  affect  the  mind  with  agreeable  emotions  through 
the  medium  of  sight.  Instead,  for  example,  of  objecting  to 
that  style  of  landscape-gardening,  which  has  been  carried 
to  such  an  excess  by  some  of  the  followers  of  Brown, 
•n  the  ground  of  its  not  being  picturesque,  would  it  not 


Chap.  IV.3  ON  THE  BEAUTIFUL.  277 

have  been  more  agreeable  to  common  language,,  to  have 
objected  to  it  on  the  ground  of  its  not  being  beautiful? 
For  my  own  part,  I  am  inclined  to  admit  asperity,  sharp 
angles,  and  irregularity  (when  introduced  in  their  proper 
places)  among  the  constituents  of  Beauty,  as  well  as  their 
opposites;  and  I  would  study  the  art  of  combining  them 
happily,  not  in  the  arbitrary  definitions  of  theorists,  but 
in  the  great  volume  of  Nature  herself.  The  conjectures 
of  various  modern  writers  concerning  the  principles  upon 
which  different  forms  produce  their  effects,  and  the  con- 
clusions of  some  of  them  (particularly  of  Hogarth)  with 
respect  to  the  waving  line,  do  great  honour  to  their  in- 
genuity, and  may  probably  admit,  in  some  of  the  arts,  of 
very  useful  practical  applications:  but  philosophical  dis- 
tinctness, as  well  as  universal  practice,  requires,  that  the 
meaning  of  the  word  Beauty,  instead  of  being  restrict- 
ed in  conformity  to  any  partial  system  whatever,  should 
continue  to  be  the  generic  word  for  expressing  every 
quality  which,  in  the   works  either  of  nature  or  of  art, 
contributes  to  render  them  agreeable  to  the  eye.  I  would 
not  therefore  restrict,  even  to  Hogarth's  line,  the  appella- 
tion of  the  line  of  beauty,  if  that  phrase  be  understood  to 
imply  any  thing  more,  than  that  this  line  seems,  from  an 
examination  of  many  of  Nature's  most  pleasing  produc- 
tions, to  be  one  of  her  favourite  forms. 

Before  dismissing  the  theories  of  Hogarth  and  Burke, 
I  think  it  proper  again  to  remind  my  readers,  that  I  do 
not  dispute  their  practical  value  in  some  of  the  fine  arts. 
I  only  object  to  such  systems  when  they  profess  to  em- 
brace all  the  principles  on  which  the  complicated  charms 
of  Nature  depend;  or  when,  without  any  reference  to  a 


278  ON  THE  BKAUTIPUL.  f  Essay  I. 

particular  design,  they  are  converted  into  universal  max- 
ims, arising  out  of  the  very  definition  of  beauty;  and  to 
which,  of  consequence,  artists  may  conceive  it  to  be  in- 
cumbent on  them  to  adhere,  in  order  to  insure  success. 
In  works  which  are  merely  ornamental,  they  are  much 
more  likely  to  hold,  than  when  some  farther  end  is  pro- 
posed; for,  in  cases  of  the  latter  sort,  the  pleasing  or  dis- 
agreeable effects  connected  with  material  forms,  consider- 
ed abstractly,  are  so  easily  overpowered  by  the  more 
weighty  considerations  suggested  by  views  of  fitness  and 
utility,  that  the  maxims  adapted  to  one  art  will  seldom  be 
found  of  much  use  when  applied  to  another:  the  maxims, 
for  example,  of  architecture,  when  applied  to  landscape- 
gardening;  or  those  of  landscape-gardening,  when  applied 
to  architecture. 

The  beauty  of  a  winding  approach  to  a  house,  when 
the  easy  deviations  from  the  straight  line  are  all  account- 
ed for  by  the  shape  of  the  ground,  or  by  the  position  of 
trees,  is  universally  acknowledged;  but  what  more  ridi- 
culous than  a  road  meandering  through  a  plain,  perfectly 
level  and  open?  In  this  last  case,  I  am  inclined  to  refer  the 
disagreeable  effect  to  the  principle  of  the  sufficient  reason 
already  mentioned.  The  slightest  apology  for  a  sweep 
s'atisfies  the  taste  at  once.  It  is  enough  that  the  designer 
has  the  appearance  of  humouring  nature,  and  not  of  in- 
dulging his  own  caprice.  The  pleasing  effect  of  the  ir- 
regular tracks  worn  out  upon  the  surface  of  broken  ground^ 
by  the  frequent  footsteps  of  shepherds,  or  even  of  their 
flocks,  will  be  found,  on  examination,  to  turn  on  the  very 
same  principle. 

How  much  our  feelings,  in  such  cases,  are  influenced 


Chap.  IV.]  ON  THE  BEAUTIFUL.  279 

by  considerations  o{  fitness  or  utility^  appears  from  the 
different  judgments  we  pronounce  on  the  beauty  of  the 
same  line,  according  to  the  purpose  for  which  we  conceive 
it  to  be  destined.  In  judging  of  an  approach  to  a  house, 
we  have  always  a  secret  reference  to  the  form  and  mecha- 
nism of  our  common  wheel-carriages. 

It  does  not  follow  from  these  remarks,  that  there  is  no 
beauty  in  the  serpentine  line;  but  only  that,  in  things  des- 
tined for  any  useful  purpose,  its  pleasing  effect  may  be  de- 
stroyed by  the  most  trivial  circumstances. 

I  recollect  the  period  when  serpentine  ridges,  in  plough- 
ed land,  were  pretty  generally  considered  in  Scotland  as 
beautiful;  and  if  they  were  equally  consistent  with  good 
husbandry,  I  have  no  doubt  that  they  would  be  more 
pleasing  to  the  eye  than  straight  ones.  The  association, 
however,  which  is  now  universally  established  between 
the  former,  and  the  ideas  of  carelessness,  sloth,  and  po- 
verty;— between  the  latter,  and  the  ideas  of  industry,  skill, 
and  prosperity,  has  completely  altered  our  notions  con- 
cerning both.  Mr.  Burke,  indeed,  rejects  utility  from  his 
enumeration  of  the  constituents  of  beauty;  but  I  am  per- 
suaded, that  I  speak  in  perfect  conformity  to  the  common 
feelings  and  common  language  of  mankind,  when  I  say, 
that  nothing  is  more  beautiful  than  a  highly  dressed  field. 
Such,  too,  I  am  happy  to  add,  was  the  opinion  of  Cicero. 
"  Agro  bene  culto,  nil  potest  esse,  nee  usu  uberius,  nee 
'y specie  ornatius.'^ 


280  ON  TIIK  BEAUTIFIT-  [liway  I. 


CHAPTER  FIFTH. 

CONTINUATION  OF  THE  SAME  SUBJECT. 

1  O  the  latitude  in  the  use  of  the  word  Beauty,  of  which 
I  havt  been  thus  uttemptinsi^  to  vindicate  the  propriety,  it 
has  been  objected,  both  by  Mr.  Burke  and  Mr.  Price, 
that  it  has  a  tendency  to  produce  a  confusion  of  ideas,  and 
to  give  rise  to  ill-judged  applications  of  the  term.  The 
inconveniencies,  however,  of  which  they  complain,  appear 
to  me  to  have  arisen  entirely  from  their  own  inattention  to 
a  very  important  distinction  among  the  various  elements, 
or  ingredients,  which  may  enter  into  the  composition  of 
the  Beautiful.  Of  these  elements,  there  are  some  which 
are  themselves  intrinsically  pleasing,  without  a  reference 
to  any  thing  else;  there  are  others  which  please  only  in  a 
state  of  combination.  Thus  there  are  certain  colours  which 
ever}'  person  would  pronounce  to  be  pleasing,  when  pre- 
sented singly  to  the  eye;  there  are  others,  which,  without 
possessing  any  such  recommendation,  produce  a  pleasing 
effect  when  happily  assorted.  The  Beauty  of  the  former 
may  be  st\id  to  be  absolute  or  intrinsic;  that  of  the  latter 
to  be  only  relative. 

Numberless  other  instances  might  be  mentioned  of 
things  that  have  only  a  relative  beauty.  This,  indeed,  is 
the  case  with  most  things  which  nature  has  destined  to  be 
only  parts  of  some  whole;  and  which,  accordingly,  are 
beautiful  only  iri  their  proper  places.  A  few  years  ago,  it 


Chap,  v.]  ON  THE  BEAUTIFUL.  281 

was  not  unusual  to  see  a  picture  of  a  lady's  eye  in  the  pos- 
session of  her  friend  or  admirer;  and  there  is  a  possibility 
that  the  effect  might  not  be  disagreeable  to  those  whose 
memory  was  able  to  supply  readily  the  rest  of  the  features. 
To  a  stranger  (if  I  may  judge  from  my  own  feelings)  it 
was  scarcely  less  offensive  than  if  it  had  been  painted  in 
the  middle  of  her  forehead. 

In  reasoning  about  the  Beautiful,  Mr.  Burke  confines 
his  attention,  almost  exclusively,  to  those  elements  of 
Beauty  which  are  intrinsically  pleasing,  assuming  it  pro- 
bably in  his  own  mind,  as  self-evident,  that  Beauty,  when 
exhibited  in  the  works  of  nature,  and  in  the  compositions 
of  art,  is  produced  by  a  combination  of  these  alone.  If, 
instead  of  following  this  synthetical  process,  he  had  be- 
gun with  considering  the  beautiful  in  its  more  complicated 
forms,  (the  point  of  view  unquestionably  in  which  it  is 
most  interesting  to  a  philosopher  to  examine  it,  when  his 
aim  is  to  illustrate  its  relation  to  the  power  of  taste,)  he 
could  not  have  failed  to  have  been  led  analytically  to  this 
distinction  between  the  intrinsic  and  the  relative  beauties 
of  its  constituent  elements,  and  to  perceive  that  the  one 
class  is  as  essential  as  the  other  to  the  general  result. 

The  same  remark  may  be  extended  to  that  external 
sense  from  which  the  power  of  taste  borrows  its  name; 
and  to  which,  in  a  variety  of  respects,  it  will  be  found  to 
bear  a  very  close  analogy.  Among  simple  tastes,  such  as 
sweet,  sour,  bitter,  hot,  pungent,  there  are  some  which 
are  intrinsically  grateful;  while  others,  which  are  not  less 
necessary  ingredients  in  some  of  our  most  delicious  mix- 
tures, are  positively  disagreeable  in  a  separate  state.  At 
the  head  of  the  former  class,  sweet  seems  to  be  placed  by 

2N 


282  ON  THE  BEAUTIFUL.  '  [Essay  L 

universal  consent;  and  accordingly  it  is  called  by  Mr. 
Burke  the  beautiful  of  taste.  In  speaking,  however,  of 
those  more  refined  and  varied  gratifications  of  the  palate 
to  which  the  arts  of  luxury  minister,  it  is  not  to  any  one 
simple  taste,  but  to  mixtures,^  or  compositions  resulting 
from  a  skilful  combination  of  them,  that  the  epithet 
beautiful  (supposing  this  new  phraseology  to  be  adopt- 
ed) ought,  according  to  strict  analogy,  to  be  applied. 
Agreeably  to  this  view  of  the  subject,  sweet  may  be  said 
to  be  intrinsieally  pleasing,  and  bitter  to  be  relatively  pleas- 
ing; while  both  are,  in  many  cases,  equally  essential  to 
those  effects,  which,  in  the  art  of  cookery,  correspond  to 
that  composite  beauty,  which  it  is  the  object  of  the  painter 
and  of  the  poet  to  create. 

A  great  deal  of  what  Mr.  Price  has  so  ingeniously  ob- 
served with  respect  to  the  picturesque,  is  applicable  to 
what  1  have  here  called  relative  beauties;  and  so  far  as 
this  is  the  case,  instead  of  making  the  Picturesque  a  dis- 
tinct genus  from  the  Beautiful,  it  would  certainly  have 
been  more  logical  to  say,  that  the  former  is,  in  some  cases, 
an  important  element  in  the  composition  of  the  latter.  For 
my  own  part,  I  cannot  conceive  any  principle  whatever, 
on  which  we  can  reasonably  refuse  a  place  among  the 
elements  or  constituents  of  beauty,  to  a  class  of  qualities 
which  are  acknowledged,  on  all  hands,  to  render  what  was 
formerly  beautiful,  more  beautiful  still. 

But  it  is  not  on  this  ground  alone  that  I  object  to  Mr. 
Price's  language.  The  meaning  he  has  annexed  to  the 
word  picturesque  seems  to  me  to  be  equally  exceptionable 
with  the  limited  and  arbitrary  notion  concerning  the  beau- 
tiful, which  he  has  adopted  from  Mr.  Burke.    In  both 


Chap,  v.]  ON  THE  BEAUTIFUL.  283 

cases,  he  has  departed  widely  from  established  use;  and, 
in  consequence  of  this,  when  he  comes  to  compare,  ac- 
cording to  his  peculiar  definitions,  the  picturesque  and 
the  beautiful  together,  he  has  given  to  many  observations, 
equally  just  and  refined,  an  air  of  paradox,  which  might 
have  been  easily  avoided,  by  employing  a  more  cautious 
phraseology.  In  justification  of  this  criticism,  it  is  neces- 
sary to  introduce  here  a  few  remarks  on  the  different 
acceptations  in  which  the  epithet  picturesque  has  been 
hitherto  understood  in  this  country,  since  it  was  natural- 
ized by  the  authority  of  our  classical  writers.* 

And  first,  as  to  the  oldest  and  most  general  use  of  the 
word;  it  seems  to  me  an  unquestionable  proposition, 
That  if  this  is  to  be  appealed  to  as  the  standard  of  pro- 
priety, the  word  does  not  refer  immediately  to  landscapes, 
or  to  any  visible  objects,  but  to  verbal  description.  It 
means  that  graphical  power  by  which  poetry  and  elo- 
quence produce  eifects  on  the  mind  analogous  to  those 
of  a  picture.  Thus  every  person  would  naturally  apply 
the  epithet  to  the  following  description  of  a  thunder-storm 
in  Thomson's  Seasons: 

"  Black  from  the  stroke  above,  the  mountain-pine, 

"  A  leaning  shatter'd  trunk,  stands  scath'd  to  heaven, 

"  The  talk  of  future  ages;  and  below, 

"  A  lifeless  group  the  blasted  cattle  lie: 

"  Here  the  soft  flocks,  with  that  same  harmless  look 

"  They  wore  alive,  and  ruminating  still 

"  In  fancy's  eye;  and  there  the  frowning  bull 

"  And  ox  half  raised." 

To  prevent,  however,  any  misapprehensions  of  my 

*  See  Note  (T). 


i34  ON'  TFIE  REAUTIFUL.  f  Es?ay  I. 

meaning,  it  is  proper  to  add,  that,  in  speakingof  the^ra- 
phicnl  power  of  poetr}' and  eloquence,  I  would  not  be 
understood  to  limit  tliat  epithet  (according  to  its  etynio- 
log-}')  to  objects  of  Sight;  l^ut  to  extend  it  to  all  those  de- 
tails, of  whatever  kind,  by  a  happy  selection  of  which  the 
imagination  may  be  forcibly  impressed.  In  the  following 
sentence,  Dr.  "NVarton  applies  the  word  picturesque  (and 
I  think  with  the  most  exact  propriety)  to  a  passage  of 
Thomson,  where  it  is  somewhat  curious,  that  every  cir- 
cumstance mentioned  rccals  some  impression  upon  the 
Ear  alone. 

"  How  full,"  (says  Warton)  *'  how  particular  and  pic - 
**  turesgue,  is  this  assemblage  of  circumstances,  that  at- 
"  tend  a  very  keen  frost  in  a  night  of  winter!" 

"  Loud  rings  the  frozen  earth  and  hard  reflects 

"  A  double  noise;  while  at  his  evening  watch, 

"  The  village  dog  deters  the  nightly  thief: 

"  The  heifer  lows;  the  distant  waterfall 

"  Swells  in  the  breeze;  and  with  the  hasty  tread 

"  Of  traveller,  the  hollow-sounding  plain 

"  Shakes  from  afar." 

This  use  of  the  word  picturesque  is  analogous  to  the 
common  signification  of  other  words  which  have  a  similar 
termination,  and  are  borrowed  from  the  Italian,  through 
the  medium  of  the  French.  The  word  arabesque^  for  ex- 
ample, expresses  something  which  is  executed  in  the 
style  of  the  Arabians;  moresque,  something  in  the  style 
of  the  Moors;  and  grotesque,  something  bearing  a  re- 
semblance to  certain  whimsical  paintings  found  in  a 
grotto,  or  subterraneous  apartment  at  Rome.  In  like  man- 


Cbap.  v.]  ON  THE  BEAUTIFUL.  285 

ner,  picturesque  properly  means  what  is  done  in  the  style, 
and  with  the  spirit  of  a  painter;  and  it  was  thus,  if  I  am 
not  much  mistaken,  that  the  word  was  commonly  em- 
ployed, when  it  was  first  adopted  in  England.  Agreeably 
to  the  same  idea,  the  Persians,  it  is  said,  distinguish  the 
different  degrees  of  descriptive  power  in  different  writers, 
by  calling  them  painters  or  sculptors:  in  allusion  to  which 
practice,  the  title  of  a  sculptor-poet  has  been  bestowed  by 
a  very  ingenious  critic  on  Lucretius,  in  consequence  of 
tlie  singularly  bold  relief  which  he  gives  to  his  images.*" 

Of  late  years,  since  a  taste  for  landscape-painting  came 
to  be  fashionable  in  this  island,  the  word  picturesque  has 
been  frequently  employed  to  denote  those  combinations 
or  groups  or  attitudes  of  objects,  that  are  fitted  for  the 
purposes  of  the  painter.  It  is  in  this  sense  that  the  word 
is  used  by  Mr.  Gilpin  in  his  Observations  on  Picturesque 
Beauty;  and  I  am  inclined  to  think,  that  it  is  in  this  sense 
it  is  now  most  commonly  understood,  in  speaking  of 
natural  scenery,  or  of  the  works  of  the  architect. 

I  do  not  object  to  this  employment  of  the  word,  (al- 
though I  certainly  think  it  an  innovation)  for  it  conveys 
a  clear  and  definite  idea,  and  one  for  which  there  was  no 
appropriate  expression  in  our  language.  Nor  do  I  see 
any  impropriety  in  connecting  the  words  Picturesque  and 
Beauty  together;  for  although  an  object  may  be  beautiful 
without  being  picturesque,  or  picturesque  without  being 
beautiful,  yet  there  is  not  any  inconsistency  or  incompati- 
bility in  the  ideas.  On  the  contrary,  it  is  only  when  the 
two  qualities  are  united,  that  landscape-painting  produces 
its  highest  effect. f 

*  Dr.  Warton,  Essay  on  the  Genius  of  Pope,  Vol.  II,  p.  165. 
t  See  Note  (U). 


286  ON  THE  BEAUTiFUL,  [Emy  J. 

According  to  Mr.  Price,  the  phrase  Picturesque  Beauty- 
is  little  better  than  a  contradiction  in  terms;  but  although 
this  may  be  the  case  in  the  arbitrary  interpretation  which 
he  has  given  to  both  these  words,  there  is  certainly  no 
contradiction  in  the  expression,  if  we  employ  Beauty  in 
its  ordinary  sense,  and  Picturesque  in  the  sense  very  dis- 
tinctly stated  in  Mr.  Gilpin's  definition.* 

The  same  remark  may  be  extended  to  the  Sublime; 
between  which  and  the  Beautiful,  there  certainly  does  not 
exist  that  incongruity  which  most  English  writers  have  of 
late  been  pleased  to  suppose. f  The  sublime  beauties  of 
nature;  the  sublime  beauties  of  the  sacred  writings; — as  it 

*  Mr.  Price  himself  appears  to  be  sensible  of  this,  from  the  paren- 
thesis in  the  following  sentence:  "There  is  nothing  more  ill  judged, 
"or  more  likely  to  create  confusion,  (if  we  agree  with  Mr.  Burke  in 
"  his  idea  of  beauty,)  than  the  joining  of  it  to  the  picturesque,  and 
"  calling  the  character  by  the  title  of  Picturesque  Beauty." — (Page 
42.) 

t  The  prevalence  of  this  idea  (which  does  not  seem  to  have  gain- 
ed much  ground  on  the  continent)  is  to  be  ascribed  chiefly  to  the 
weight  of  Mr.  Burke's  authority.  To  many  of  the  passages  which 
both  he  and  Dr.  Blair  have  quoted  from  poets  and  orators,  as  exam- 
ples of  the  Subli?ne,  a  Frenchman  would  undoubtedly  consider  the 
epithet  Beau  as  at  least  equally  applicable- 
Mr.  Burke's  theory  concerning  the  connection  between  Beauty 
and  Smallness,  could  not  fail  to  confirm  him  in  his  opinion  of  the 
incompatibility  of  the  Beautiful  with  the  Sublime.  In  this  theory 
also,  he  has  founded  a  general  conclusion  on  certain  local  or  tempo- 
rary modes  of  judging,  instead  of  consulting  that  more  important 
class  of  facts  confirmed  by  the  consent  of  different  ages  and  nations. 
With  respect  to  the  taste  of  the  ancient  Greeks  upon  this  subject, 
according  to  which  Magnitude  and  Strength  were  considered  as  in- 
gredients in  the  Beauty  even  of  the  female  form,  sec  the  very  learn- 
cd'and  ingenious  notes,  subjoined  by  Mr.  Twining  to  his  excellent 
translation  of  Aristotle's  Treatise  on  Poetry,  pp.  263,  264,  265. 

From  the  contrast  perpetually  stated  between  the  meanings  of  the 
y/ovi[^  Beau  and  Joliy  Mr.  Price  concludes,  that  "the  French,  like 


Chap.  V.J  ON  THE  BEAUTIFUL.  287 

is  one  of  the  most  common,  so  it  is  also  one  of  the  most 
intelligible  forms  of  expression  employed  by  critics.  The 
Sublime  and  the  Picturesque,  therefore,  it  would  appear, 
are  most  properly  used  as  qualifying  epithets,  to  limit  the 
meaning  of  the  generic  name  Beauty  in  particular  in- 
stances. A  great  variety  of  other  epithets  besides  these 
are  found  to  be  necessary,  for  the  expression  of  our  feel- 
ings on  different  occasions.  It  is  thus  that  we  speak  of 
the  simple  beauties  of  the  Doric  order;  ani  of  the  rich 
or  ornamented  beauties  of  the  Corinthian.  It  is  thus  that 
we  contrast  with  the  wild  and  savage  beauties  of  Nature, 
the  regular,  the  refined,  the  chaste,  the  finished,  the  clas- 
sical beauties  of  Art.  It  is  thus,  too,  that  we  contrast,  in 
the  well-known  picture  of  Garrick,  the  beauties  of  the  tra- 
gic with  those  of  the  comic  muse;  or,  in  the  poetry  of 
Milton,  the  gay  and  lively  beauties  of  his  Allegro  with 

"  the  more  ancient  Greeks,  appear*  to  have  considered  large  stature 
"  as  almost  a  requisite  of  beauty,  and  not  only  in  men,  but  in  women." 
In  this  inference  I  am  inclined  to  agree  with  him;  although  I  must, 
at  the  same  time,  confess,  that  I  know  of  no  French  writer,  (not  ex- 
cepting the  Abbe  Girard)  who  has  enabled  me  to  draw  a  line  between 
these  two  epithets,  completely  satisfactory  to  myself.  I  recollect  at 
present  two  instances,  in  which  I  should  be  glad  to  see  their  respec- 
tive imports  happily  translated  into  our  language,  In  the  first,  both 
epithets  are  applied  to  the  same  person,  and  at  the  same  period  of 
her  life;  and,  consequently,  the  one  is  not  absolutely  exclusive  of 
the  other.  In  neither  instance,  can  the  contrast  turn,  in  the  slightest 
degree,  on  any  circumstance  connected  with  stature. 

"  Seliane,  dans  sa  jeunesse,  avoit  ete  jolie  et  belle:  elle  etoit  belle 
"encore;  mais  elle  commen^oit  a  n'etre  plus  jolie." — Marmontel, 
(Zfs  Quatre  Flacons  ) 

"  Une  femme  ne  pent  gueres  etre  belle  que  d'une  fa9on,  mais  elle 
<'  est  jolie  de  cent  milie." — Montesquieu,  (Essai  Sur  le  Gout.) 

*  Pp.  16  and  21,  of  the  Essay  on  Beauty,  prefixed  to  Mr.  Price's  Dialogue. 


288  ON  THE  BEAUTIFUL.  [Essay  I. 

the  serious  and  melancholy  beauties  of  his  Penseroso. 
In  a  word,  to  oppose  the  Beautiful  to  the  Sublime,  or  to 
the  Picturesque,  strikes  me  as  something  analogous  to  a 
contrast  between  the  Beautiful  and  the  Comic;  the  Beau- 
tiful and  the  Tragic;  the  Beautiful  and  the  Pathetic;  or 
the  Beautiful  and  the  Romantic. 

I  have  said,  that  it  is  only  when  the  Beautiful  and  the 
Picturesque  are  united,  that  landscape- painting  produces 
its  highest  effect.  The  truth  of  this  proposition  seems  to 
be  unquestionable,  unless  we  suppose,  that  no  part  of  the 
effect  of  a  picture  arises  from  its  conveying  the  idea  of  a 
beautiful  original. 

It  is  true  that,  in  the  details  of  a  landscape,  there  are 
often  many  circumstances  possessing  no  intrinsic  beauty, 
which  have  a  far  happier  effect  than  the  highest  beauties 
which  could  be  substituted  in  their  place.  On  examina- 
tion, however,  it  will  be  found,  that  the  effect  of  these 
circumstances  does  not  depend  on  their  intrinsic  qualities, 
but  on  their  accidental  significance  or  expression^  as  hints 
to  the  imagination;  and  therefore,  if  we  apply  to  such 
circumstances  the  epithet  picturesque,*  (which  is  a  use  of 
the  word  not  very  remote  from  its  meaning,  when  appli- 

*  Neither  Mr.  Price  nor  Mr.  Gili>in  appear  to  me  to  liavc  been 
sufliciently  a\vare  of  the  difference  between  the  meaning  which  they 
annex  to  the  word  Picturesque^  when  applied  to  those  details  in  a 
landscape,  which  are  peculiarly  characteristic  and  expressive,  and 
its  meaning  when  applied  to  the  general  design  and  composition  ot 
the  piece.  In  the  former  sense,  it  conveys  an  idea  quite  distinct 
from  the  Beautiful,  and  (as  will  afterwards  appear)  sometimes  at  va- 
riance with  it.  In  the  other  sense,  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  the 
beauty  of  the  scene  represented  will  add  proportionally  to  the  pleas- 
ing effect  of  the  picture. 

'2 


Chap.  V.J  ON  THE  BEAUTIFUL.  289 

ed  to  verbal  description)  that  the  pleasure  which  the  pic- 
turesque in  this  case  conveys,  is  ultimately  resolvable  into 
that  which  is  connected  by  means  of  association  with  the 
perception  of  the  beautiful.  Its  effect  depends  on  its  power 
of  conveying  to  the  fancy  more  than  the  pencil  of  the 
artist  has  delineated,  and  consequently  is  to  be  referred 
ultimately  to  the  beauties  which  are  supplied  or  understood; 
for  the  same  reason  that  the  pleasing  effect  of  the  profile, 
or  silhouette,  of  a  beautiful  woman  is  ultimately  to  be 
referred,  not  to  what  is  seen,  but  to  what  is  recalled  to 
the  memory;  or  (to  take  an  instance  still  more  general  in 
its  application)  for  the  same  reason  that  the  pathetic  effect 
of  the  veil  thrown  over  the  face  of  Agamemnon,  in  the 
Iphigenia  of  Timanthes,  was  owing,  not  to  the  veil,  but 
to  the  features  which  it  was  imagined  to  conceal.  "  Vela- 
*'  vit  ejus  caput  (says  Quinctilian)  et  suo  cuique  animo 
"  dedit  asstimandum."  Of  the  same  painter  it  is  observed 
by  Pliny:  "In  omnibus  ejus  operibus  intelligitur  plus 
"  semper  quam  pingitur." 

Among  the  various  applications  of  the  word  Pictu- 
resque to  painting,  this  last  use  of  it  is  more  closely  ana- 
logous to  its  primary  application  to  verbal  description, 
than  any  of  the  others.  In  this  sense,  (which,  for  the  sake 
of  distinctness,  I  shall  call  its  poetical  sense)  it  does  not 
denote  what  is  actually  represented;  but  what  sets  the 
imagniation  at  work,  in  forming  pictures  of  its  own;  or, 
in  other  words,  those  parts  of  a  picture,  where  more  is 
meant  and  suggested  than  meets  the  eye.  Of  this  sort  is 
a  group  of  cattle  standing  in  a  river,  or  coUected  under 
the  shade  of  a  tree,  when  introduced  into  a  landscape,  to 
recal  the  impressions  and  scenery  of  a  summer  noon; — a 

20 


290  ON  THE  BEAUTIFUL,.  [Essay  I 

ruined  castle  or  abbey  employed  to  awaken  the  memory 
of  former  times,  accompanied  with  those  feudal  or  mo- 
nastic visions  so  dear  to  a  romantic  fancy;  with  number- 
less other  instances  of  a  similar  sort,  which  must  imme- 
diately occur  to  all  my  readers. 

For  some  reasons,  which  will  afterwards  appear,  the 
word  Picturesque,  in  this  poetical  sense,  is  applicable  to 
many  of  the  objects  which  are  also  picturesque,  according 
to  Mr.  Gilpin's  definition;  and  which,  at  the  same  time, 
unite  the  most  remarkable  of  those  properties  which  Mr. 
Price  has  pointed  out,  as  distinguishing  the  Picturesque 
from  the  Beautiful.  Hence  these  ingenious  writers  have 
been  led,  on  several  occasions,  to  ascribe  much  more  ef- 
fect to  the  mere  visible  appearance  of  such  objects,  than 
really  belongs  to  it.  An  example  of  this  occurs  in  the 
stress  which  they  have  very  justly  laid  on  the  form  of  the 
Ass,  as  peculiarly  adapted  to  the  artist's  pencil;  a  form 
which  they  have  both  pronounced  to  be  picturesque  in  an 
eminent  degree. 

But  the  Ass,  it  must  be  remembered,  has,  beside  his 
appearance,  strong  claims,  on  other  accounts,  to  the  pain- 
ter's attention.  Few  animals  have  so  powerful  an  effect  in 
awakening  associated  ideas  and  feelings;  and  accordingly, 
it  is  eminently  Picturesque,  in  the  poetical  sense  of  that 
word,  as  well  as  in  the  acceptation  in  which  it  is  under- 
stood by  Mr.  Price.  Not  to  speak  of  the  frequent  allusions 
to  it  in  Holy  Writ,  what  interest  are  we  led  to  attach  to 
it  in  our  early  years,  by  the  Fables  of  i^sop;  by  the 
similes  of  Homer;  by  the  exploits  of  Don  Quixote;  by 
the  pictures  which  it  recals  to  us  of  the  bye-paths  in  the 
forest,  where  we  have  so  often  met  with  it  as  the  beast  of 


Chap,  v.]  ON  THE  BEAUTIFUL.  291 

burden,  and  the  associate  of  the  vagrant  poor,  or  where 
we  have  stopped  to  gaze  on  the  infant  beauties  which  it 
carried  in  its  panniers; — in  fine,  by  the  circumstances 
which  have  called  forth,  in  its  eulogy,  one  of  the  most 
pleasing  efforts  of  Buffon's  eloquence;  its  own  quiet  and 
inoffensive  manners,  and  the  patience  with  which  it  sub- 
mits to  its  life  of  drudgery.  It  is  worthy,  too,  of  remark, 
that  this  animal,  when  we  meet  with  it  in  painting,  is  sel- 
dom the  common  ass  of  our  own  country,  but  the  ass 
ennobled  by  the  painter's  taste;  or  copied  from  the  ani- 
mal of  the  same  species,  which  we  have  seen  in  the  patri- 
archal journeys,  and  other  scripture-pieces  of  eminent 
masters.  In  consequence  of  this  circumstance,  a  pleasing 
association,  arising  from  the  many  beautiful  compositions 
of  which  it  forms  a  part,  comes  to  be  added  to  its  other 
recommendations  already  mentioned,  and  has  secured  to 
it  a  rank  on  the  canvas,  which  the  degradation  of  its  name 
will  for  ever  prevent  it  from  attaining  in  the  works  of  our 
English  poets. 

These  observations  may  be  extended,  in  some  degree 
also,  to  the  Goat;  strongly  associated  as  its  figure  is  with 
the  romantic  scenes  of  an  Alpine  region;  and  with  the 
precipitous  cliffs,  where  it  has  occasionally  caught  our 
eye,  browsing  on  the  pendent  shrubs  in  security  and  soli- 
tude. 

With  respect  to  the  peculiarities  in  point  of  form,  co- 
louring, roughness  of  coat,  &c.  to  which,  according  to 
Mr.  Gilpin  and  Mr.  Price,  both  these  animals  owe  their 
Picturesque  character,  they  seem  to  me  to  operate  chiefly 
by  the  stimulus  they  give  to  the  powers  of  imagination 
and  of  memory.  Where  this  is  the  end  which  the  artist 


292  ON   I'HE  BEAUTlFllL.  [Essay  I. 

has  in  view,  such  forms  and  colours  possess  important 
and  obvious  advantages  over  those  which  are  much  more 
decidedly  beautiful;  inasmuch  as  these  last,  by  the  im- 
mediate pleasure  which  they  communicate  to  the  organ, 
have  a  tendency  to  arrest  the  progress  of  our  thoughts, 
and  to  engage  the  whole  of  our  attention  to  themselves. 

It  is  scarcely  necessary  for  me  to  add,  that  a  great  part 
of  what  has  just  been  observed,  is  applicable  to  the  art 
of  embellishing  real  scenery,  as  well  as  to  the  composi- 
tions of  the  painter.  Many  of  Mr.  Price's  suggestions  for 
giving  a  Picturesque  character  to  giounds  and  to  build- 
ings, turn  upon  circumstances  which  owe  their  whole 
effect  to  their  poetical  expression. 

When  these  different  considerations  are  combined  to- 
gether, there  will  not,  I  apprehend,  appear  to  be  any 
sound  foundation  for  distinguishing  the  Picturesque  from 
the  Beautiful  as  a  quality  essentially  different;  the  pleasure 
we  receive  from  the  former,  resolving  either  into  that 
arising  from  the  conception  or  imagination  of  u?iderstood 
beauties,  or  into  the  accessary  pleasures  excited  in  the 
mind,  by  means  of  the  associating  principle. 

On  other  occasions,  the  distinction  stated  by  Mr.  Price 
between  the  Picturesque  and  the  Beautiful  coincides  with 
the  distinction  between  natural  and  artificial  beauty;  and 
the  rules  he  gives  for  producing  the  Picturesque  resolve 
into  the  old  precept  of  employing  art  to  conceal  her  own 
operations.  In  these,  as  indeed  in  all  other  cases,  his  rules 
(as  far  as  I  am  able  to  judge)  arc  the  result  of  exquisite 
taste,  and  evince  habits  of  the  nicest  and  most  discrimi- 
nating observation;  and  it  is  only  to  be  regretted  that  he 


Chap.  V.J  ON  THE  BEAUTIFUL.  293 

had  not  been  more  fortunate  in  the  choice,  and  more  con- 
sistent in  the  use  of  his  phraseology.* 

Notwithstanding,  however,  these  occasional  variations 
in  his  interpretation  of  the  word  Picturesque,  the  prevail- 
ing idea  which  he  annexes  to  it,  throughout  his  work, 
coincides  very  nearly  with  the  definition  of  Mr.  Gilpin. 
In  proof  of  this,  it  is  sufficient  to  mention,  that,  iu  his  title 
page,  what  he  professes  to  treat  of,  is,  the  advantage  to 
be  derived  from  the  study  of  paintings  in  improving  real 
landscape;  a  circumstance  which  shews  plainly,  that  it  was 
tliis  notion  of  the  Picturesque  which  was  predominant  in 
his  mind  while  he  was  employed  in  the  composition.  The 
truth  of  the  doctrine  which  he  thus  announces  as  his  prin- 
cipal subject,  I  am  by  no  means  disposed  to  dispute;  but 
some  limitations  of  it  occur  to  me  as  so  indispensably 
necessary,  that  I  shall  slightly  touch  upon  one  or  two  of 
the  most  important,  before  I  conclude  this  chapter. 

That  the  Picturesque  (according  to  Mr.  Gilpin's  defi- 
nition of  it)  does  not  always  coincide  with  what  the  eye 
pronounces  to  be  Beautiful  in  the  reality,  has  been  often 
observed;  and  is,  indeed,  an  obvious  consequence  of  the 
limited  powers  of  painting,  and  of  the  limited  range  of 
objects  which  the  artist  can  present  to  the  eye  at  once. 
No  pencil  can  convey  to  us  a  pleasure  bearing  any  resem- 

*  In  some  of  the  passages  which  I  allude  to  at  present,  the  word 
picturesque  seems  to  be  synonymous  with  romantic^  as  formerly  ap- 
plied by  our  English  writers  to  wild  scenery Milton  uses  gro- 
tesque nearly  in  the  same  sense: 

"  The  champaign  head 
"Of  a  steep  wilderness,  whose  hairj  sides 
"  With  thicket  overgrown,  grotesque  and  wild, 
"  Access  deny'd." 


294  ON  THE  BEAUTIFUL.  [Essay  I. 

blance  to  that  which  we  receive,  when  we  enjoy,  from  a 
commanding  eminence,  an  extensive  prospect  of  a  rich 
champaign  country,  or  a  boundless  view  of  the  ocean;  nor 
can  it  copy,  with  any  success,  many  other  of  the  most 
engaging  aspects  of  nature.  The  painter,  accordingly, 
when  he  attempts  a  portrait  of  real  landscape,  is  obliged 
to  seize  such  points  of  view  as  are  adapted  to  the  circum- 
scribed resources  of  his  art;  and,  in  his  observation  of 
Nature,  is  unavoidably  led  to  the  study  of  what  Mr.  Gil- 
pin calls  picturesque  effect.  By  these  habits  of  study,  he 
cannot  fail  to  acquire  a  new  interest  in  the  beautiful  ob- 
jects he  meets  with;  a  critical  discrimination  in  his  per- 
ceptions, unknown  to  common  spectators;  and  a  sensibi- 
lity to  many  pleasing  details,  which  to  them  are  invisible. 
**  Quam  multa  vident  pictores"  (says  Cicero,  in  the  words 
of  Mr.  Price's  motto)  "  in  umbris  et  in  eminentia  quae  nos 
"  non  videmus!"  Nor  is  this  all.  To  the  pleasure  arising 
from  what  is  presented  to  his  senses,  is  superadded  that 
which  he  anticipates  from  the  exercise  of  his  own  art;  or 
those  which  are  revived  in  his  memory,  by  the  resem- 
blance of  what  he  sees  to  the  compositions  of  his  favorite 
masters.  The  most  trifling  accident  of  scenery,  it  is  evi- 
dent, (at  least  the  most  trifling  to  an  unskilled  eye)  may 
thus  possess,  in  his  estimation,  a  value  superior  to  that 
which  he  ascribes  to  beauties  of  a  far  higher  order;  his 
imagination,  in  some  cases,  filling  up  the  picture  where 
nature  has  but  faintly  sketched  the  outline;  in  other  cases, 
the  reality  borrowing  a  charm  from  some  associated  paint- 
ing,— as,  in  the  judgment  of  the  multitude,  paintings 
borrow  their  principal  charm  from  associated  realities. 
While  the  studies  of  the  painter  contribute,  in  this 


Chap,  V.J  ON  THE  BEAUTIFUL.  295 

manner,  to  create  a  relish  for  the  beautiful  picturesque^  is 
there  no  danger  that  they  may  produce,  in  a  limited  mind, 
habits  of  inattention  or  of  indift'erence  to  those  natural 
beauties  which  defy  the  imitation  of  the  pencil;  and  that 
his  taste  may  become,  in  time,  circumscribed  like  the 
canvas  upon  which  he  works?  I  think  I  have  perceived, 
in  some  artists  and  connoisseurs,  examples  of  this,  within 
the  narrow  circle  of  my  own  observation.  In  such  cases, 
we  might  almost  be  tempted  to  reverse  the  question  in 
Mr.  Price's  motto; — quam  multa  videmus  nos  quae  pic- 
tores  non  vident! 

As  to  the  application  of  the  knowledge  thus  acquired 
from  the  study  of  paintings,  to  the  improvement  of  natu- 
ral landscape,  I  have  no  doubt  that,  to  a  superior  under- 
standing and  taste,  like  those  of  Mr.  Price,  it  may  often 
suggest  very  useful  hints;  but  if  recognized  as  the  stand- 
ard to  which  the  ultimate  appeal  is  to  be  made,  it  would 
infallibly  cover  the  face  of  the  country  with  a  new  and 
systematical  species  of  affectation,  not  less  remote  than 
that  of  Brown,  from  the  style  of  gardening  which  he 
wishes  to  recommend. 

To  this  it  may  be  added,  that,  as  an  object  which  is 
offensive  in  the  reality  may  please  in  painting;  so  many 
things  which  would  offend  in  painting,  may  yet  please  in 
the  reality.  If,  in  some  respects,  therefore,  the  study  of 
painting  is  a  useful  auxiliary  in  the  art  of  creating  land- 
scape; in  others,  there  is,  at  least,  a  possibility  that  it  may 
lead  the  judgment  astray,  or  impose  unnecessary  fetters 
on  an  inventive  imagination. 

I  have  only  to  remark  farther,  that,  in  laying  out 
grounds,  still  more,  perhaps,  than  in  any  other  of  the  fine 


296  ON  THE  BEAUTIFUL.  [Essay  I. 

arts,  the  primary  object  of  a  good  taste  is,  not  to  please 
the  connoisseur,  but  to  please  the  enlightened  admirer 
and  lover  of  nature.  The  perfection  of  all  these  arts  is  un- 
doubtedly to  give  pleasure  to  both;  as  they  always  will, 
and  must  do,  when  the  taste  of  the  connoisseur  is  guided 
by  good  sense  and  philosophy.  Pliny  justly  considered  it 
as  the  highest  praise  he  could  bestow  on  the  exquisite 
beauties  of  a  Corinthian  antique,  when  he  sums  up  his 
description  of  them,  by  observing, — "  Taliadenique  om- 
^'  nia,  ut  possint  artificum  oculos  tenere,  delectare  impe- 
"  ritorum."  Objects,  of  whatever  kind,  which  please  the 
connoisseur  alone,  prove  only  that  there  is  something 
fundamentally  wrong  in  the  principles  upon  which  he 
judges;  and  most  of  all  do  they  authorize  this  conclusion, 
when  Nature  herself  is  the  subject  upon  which  the  artist 
is  to  operate,  and  where  the  chief  glory  of  Art  is  to  work 
unseen. 

Upon  the  whole,  let  painting  be  allowed  its  due  praise 
in  quickening  our  attention  to  the  beauties  of  nature;  in 
multiplying  our  resources  for  their  further  embellishment; 
and  in  holding  up  a  standard,  from  age  to  age,  to  correct 
the  caprices  of  fashionable  innovations;  but  let  our  taste 
for  these  beauties  be  chiefly  formed  on  the  study  of  Na- 
ture herself; — nor  let  us  ever  forget  so  far  what  is  due  to 
her  indisputable  and  salutary  prerogative,  as  to  attempt 
an  encroachment  upon  it  by  laws,  which  derive  the  whole 
of  their  validity  from  her  own  sanction.* 

*  "I  shall  add  no  more  to  what  I  have  here  offered,  than  that  mu- 
"  sic,  architecture,  and  painting,  as  well  as  poetry  and  oratory,  are 
"  to  deduce  their  laws  and  rules  from  the  general  sense  and  taste  of 
"  mankind,  and  not  from  the  principles  of  these  arts  themselves;  or, 
"in  other  words,  that  the  taste  is  not  to  conform  to  the  art,  but  the 
"  art  to  the  taste." — Spectator,  No.  29. 

2 


Chap.  VI,]  ON  THE  BEAUTIFUL  297 


CHAPTER  SIXTH. 

OF  THE  APPLICATION  OF  THE  THEORY  OF  ASSOCIATION  TO  BEAUTY. 
FARTHER  GENERALIZATIONS  OF  THIS  WORD,  IN  CONSEQUENCE  OF 
THE  INFLUENCE  OF  THE  ASSOCIATING  PRINCIPLE. 

In  the  foregoing  remarks  on  Beauty,  although  I  have 
occasionally  alluded  to  the  Association  of  Ideas,  I  have 
avoided  all  discutision  with  respect  to  the  extent  of  its  in- 
fluence. It  is  necessary  for  me,  however,  now  to  consider, 
at  some  length,  the  effects  of  a  principle  which,  in  the 
opinion  of  many  philosophers,  furnishes  a  complete  ex- 
planation of  all  the  phenomena  which  have  been  under 
our  consideration;  and  which  must  be  acknowledged, 
even  by  those  who  do  not  go  so  far,  to  be  deeply  concern- 
ed in  the  production  of  most  of  them. 

I  had  occasion  to  observe,  in  a  former  publication,  that 
the  theory  which  resolves  the  xvhole  eflect  of  beautiful 
objects  into  Association,  must  necessarily  involve  that  spe- 
cies of  paralogism,  to  which  logicians  give  the  name  of 
reasoning  in  a  circle.  It  is  the  province  of  association  to 
impart  to  one  thing  the  agreeable  or  the  disagreeable  ef- 
fect of  another;  but  association  can  never  account  for  the 
origin  of  a  class  of  pleasures  different  in  kind  from  all  the 
others  we  know.  If  there  was  nothing  originally  and  in- 
trinsically pleasing  or  beautiful,  the  associating  principle 
would  have  no  materials  on  which  it  could  operate. 

Among  the  writers  who  have  attempted  to  illustrate  thr 

2P 


298  ON  THE  BEAUTIFUJa  [Essay  I. 

great  influence  of  Association  on  our  judgments  concern- 
ing the  Beautiful,  I  do  not  know  of  any  who  seem  to  htive 
been  completely  aware  of  the  force  of  this  objection  but 
Mr.  Alison;  and  accordingly  the  fundamental  idea  which 
runs  through  his  book,  and  which,  in  my  opinion,  is 
equally  refined  and  just,  is  entirely  his  own.  He  does  not 
deny,  that,  independently  of  custom  and  habit,  there  are 
numberless  sources  of  enjoyment  in  the  human  frame, 
arising  from  its  adaptation  to  the  various  objects  around 
it.  He  only  asserts,  that  a  large  proportion  of  the  qualities 
which  produce  these  pleasures,  although  they  cannot  be 
called  Beautiful,  while  they  affect  the  bodily  organs  im- 
mediately, may  yet  enter  largely,  by  means  of  the  Asso- 
ciation of  Ideas,  into  the  beauty  of  the  visible  creation. 
Thus,  the  qualities  which  excite  the  agreeable  sensations 
exclusively  appropriated  to  the  nostrils,  cannot  be  said  to 
be  beautiful,  without  departing  altogether  from  the  com- 
mon use  of  language;  but  who  will  deny,  that  the  pleasing 
effect  produced  by  the  form  and  colour  of  a  rose,  even 
when  viewed  at  a  distance,  is  heightened  by  the  sweet 
fragrance  which  we  know  that  it  possesses?  The  effect 
of  the  appearance  here  presented  to  the  eye,  and  that  of 
the  associated  pleasure,  are  so  intimately  and  so  necessa- 
rily blended  together  in  the  mind  of  every  individual,  that 
it  is  impossible  for  any  person  to  say,  how  much  of  the 
complicated  delight  is  to  be  ascribed  to  each  of  the  two 
ingredients;  and  therefore,  the  pleasing  conception  which 
is  linked  with  the  appearance  of  the  object,  no  less  than 
the  appearance  itself,  may  be  justly  regarded  as  a  consti- 
tuent of  its  Beauty:  it  is  unquestionably  the  union  of  both 
which  has  secured  to  the  Rose  her  indisputed  title,  as 


CJjaj).  VI. J  .     QN  THE  BEAUTIFUL.  299 

Queen  of  Flowers.  The  principle  of  Association  is  not, 
in  this  instance,  employed  to  account  for  the  pleasing  ef- 
fect which  the'%mell  of  the  rose  produces  on  its  appropriate 
sense;  but  to  explain  in  what  manner  the  recollection  of 
this  agreeable  sensation  may  enter,  as  an  element,  into  the 
composition  of  an  order  of  pleasures  distinguished  by  a 
different  name,  and  classed  with  the  pleasures  of  a  differ- 
ent organ.  In  so  far,  therefore,  as  the  sensations  of  smell- 
ing minister  to  the  Beauty  of  nature,  it  may,  with  great 
correctness,  be  said,  that  they  do  so  only  through  the  me- 
dium of  that  principle,  which  combines  the  conception  of 
them  in  the  mind  of  the  spectator  with  the  perception  of 
the  colours  and  the  forms  exhibited  to  his  eye. 

What  has  now  been  remarked  with  respect  to  smeU^ 
is  applicable  to  every  other  pleasing  impression  or  emo- 
tion which  Association  can  attach  to  a  visible  object.  In 
consequence  of  the  close  relation  which  subsists  between 
the  senses  of  seeing  and  of  touchy  it  applies  with  peculiar 
force  to  those  things  about  which  the  latter  sense  is  likely 
to  be  employed;  and  hence,  in  many  instances,  the  influ- 
ence (formerly  explained)  of  ideas  connected  with  the 
perceptions  of  the  hand,  in  modifying  the  judgments  con- 
(serning  Beauty,  which  the  eye  pronounces.* 

It  is,  however,  chiefly  by  intellectual  and  moral  associa- 

* "  Chaque  sens,  par  un  heureux  concours, 


'*  Prete  aux  sens  allies  un  mutuel  secours; 

"  Le  frais  gazon  des  eaux  m'embellit  leur  murmure, 

"  Leur  murmure,  a  son  tour,  m'embellit  la  verdure. 

"  L'odorat  sert  le  gout,  ct  I'oeil  sert  I'odorat; 

"  L'haleine  de  la  rose  ajoute  a  son  eclat; 

"  Et  d'un  ambre  flatteur  la  peche  parfumee, 

"  Parait  plus  savoureuse  a  la  bouche  embaumee; 


300  ON  THK  BEAUTIFUL  [Essay  1. 

tions,  that  our  notions  of  Beauty  are  influenced.  How 
powerful  the  charm  is  which  may  be  thus  communicated 
to  things  of  little  intrinsic  interest,  may  be  judged  of  from 
the  fond  partiality  Avith  which  we  continue,  through  the 
whole  of  life,  to  contrast  the  banks  and  streams  of  our  in- 
fancy and  youth,  with  '-^  other  banks  and  other  streams.''^* 
In  this  manner,  by  means  of  association,  any  one  pleasing 
circumstance  or  occurrence  in  nature,  how  remote  soever 
in  itself  from  the  idea  of  the  Beautiful,  may  be  yet  so  com- 
bined in  our  imagination  with  the  Beautiful  properly  so 
called,  that  no  philosophical  analysis  can  separate  them 
in  their  effect.  On  such  occasions,  the  task  of  the  philo- 
sopher is  limited  to  the  gratification  of  a  speculative  cu- 
riosity in  collecting  new  illustrations  of  his  theories;  or 
(where  he  experiences  the  inconveniences  of  his  own  early 
prepossessions)  to  a  more  judicious  regulation  of  the 
habits  of  others,  whose  associations  are  yet  to  be  formed. 
But  on  this  view  of  the  subject,  although  I  consider  it 
as  by  far  the  most  curious  and  important  of  any,  I  do  not 
mean  to  enlarge.  The  strong  and  happy  lights  which  have 
been  thrown  upon  it  by  Mr.  Alison,  render  any  farther 
illustration  of  it  superfluous;  and  leave  me  nothing,  to 
add,  in  this  part  of  my  argument,  but  a  few  slight  hints, 
tending  to  connect  some  of  his  conclusions  with  that 

"  Voyez  ramoiir  heureux  par  un  double  larciul 
"  La  main  invite  I'oeil,  Toeil  appelle  la  niuin, 
"  Et  d'unc  bouche  fraichc  ou  Ic  baisev  repose 
"  Le  parfum  est  plus  doux  sur  des  levres  de  rose. 
"  Ainsi  tout  se  rcpond,  et  doublant  leurs  plaisirs, 
•'  Tous  les  sens  i'un  de  I'autre  eveillent  les  desirs." 

De  Lille. — L'Imagination,  Chant  f, 

*  Shenstone.    Ode  to  Memorv. 


Chap,  yi]  ON  THE  BEAUTIFUL.  301 

peculiar  idea  of  Beauty  which  I  have  been  attempting 
to  develope. 

It  is  scarcely  necessary  for  me  to  observe,  that,  in  those 
instances  where  Association  operates  in  heightening  the 
pleasures  we  receive  from  sight,  the  pleasing  emotion  con- 
tinues still  to  appear,  to  our  consciousness,  simple  and 
uncompounded.  How  little  soever  the  qualities  that  are 
visible  may  in  themselves  contribute  to  the  joint  result,  it 
is  these  qualities  which  solely,  or  at  least  chiefly,  occupy 
our  attention.  The  object  seems  really  invested  with  the 
charms  which  we  ourselves  have  lent  to  it;  and  so  com- 
pletely are  these  charms  united,  in  our  apprehensions^ 
with  those  attached  to  the  organic  impression,  that  we 
never  think  of  referring  them  to  different  causes;  but  con- 
ceive that  the  Beauty  of  the  object  increases  in  proportion 
to  the  rapture  with  which  we  gaze  on  it.  Hence  the  sur- 
prise and  disappointment  we  are  apt  to  feel,  when  we, 
strive  in  vain,  by  an  exhibition  of  the  supposed  cause  of 
our  delight,  to  impart  to  a  stranger  an  enthusiasm  similar 
to  our  own:  And  hence,  upon  all  questions  in  which  the 
affections  are  concerned,  a  diversity  in  the  tastes  and  pre- 
dilections of  individuals,  which  is  not  to  be  reconciled  by 
any  general  principles  drawn  from  the  philosophy  of  the 
human  mind. 

Nor  is  there  any  thing  in  this  process  different  from 
what  the  analogy  of  our  other  perceptions  would  lead  us 
to  expect.  If  the  constant  coexistence  of  two  such  hete- 
rogeneous qualities  as  colour  and  extension  in  the  objects 
of  sight,  renders  them  completely  inseparable  in  our 
thoughts,  why  should  we  wonder,  that  the  intellectual  and 
more  fugitive  elements  of  Beauty,  should  be  insensibly 


302  ON  THE  BEAUTIFUL.  [Esaay  I. 

identified  with  whatever  forms  and  colours  may  chance 
to  embody  them  to  the  eye  or  to  the  fancy? 

The  most  striking  illustration  of  this  that  can  be  pro- 
duced is,  the  complicated  assemblage  of  charms,  physical 
and  moral,  which  enter  into  the  composition  of  Female 
Beauty.  What  philosopher  can  presume  to  analyze  the 
different  ingredients;  or  to  assign  to  matter  and  to  mind 
their  respective  shares  in  exciting  the  emotion  which  he 
feels?  I  believe,  for  my  own  part,  that  the  effect  depends 
chiefly  on  the  Mind;  and  that  the  loveliest  features,  if  di- 
vested of  their  expression,  would  be  beheld  with  indif- 
ference. But  no  person  thus  philosophizes  when  the  ob- 
ject is  before  him,  or  dreams  of  any  source  of  his  plea- 
sure, but  that  Beauty  which  fixes  his  gaze. 

With  what  admirable  precision  and  delicacy  arc  its  un 
definable  elements  touched  on  in  the  following  verses! 

"  Rien  ne  manque  a  Venus,  ni  les  lys,  ni  les  roses, 
"  Ni  le  melange  exquis  des  plus  aimables  choses. 
"  Ni  ce  charme  secret  dont  I'oeil  est  enchantc, 
"  Ni  la  grace  plus  belle  encore  que  la  beauic."* 

In  Homer's  description  of  Juno,  when  attiring  herscll 
to  deceive  Jupiter,  by  trying  "  the  old,  yet  still  successful 
*'  cheat  of  love;'*''  it  is  remarkable,  that  the  poet  leaves  to 
her  own  fancy  the  whole  task  of  adorning  and  heighten- 
ing her  personal  attractions;  but  when  she  requests  Venus 
to  grant  her 

"  Tliose  conqu'ring  charms, 
"  That  powei-  which  mortals  and  immortals  warms."-— 

*  La  Fontaine.  Adonis. 


-Chap.  VI.3  ON  THE  BEAUTIFUL.  303 

The  gifts  which  she  receives  are,  all  of  them,  significant 
of  mental  qualities  alone: 

"  The  gentle  vow,  the  gay  desire, 
"  The  kind  deceit,  the  still  reviving  fire, 
"  Persuasive  speech,  and  more  persuasive  sighs, 
"  Silence  that  spoke,  and  eloquence  of  eyes." 

The  exquisite  allegory  of  the  Cestus.,  expresses,  in  one 
single  word,  how  innumerable  and  ineffable  were  the  en- 
chantments, visible  and  invisible,  which  the  Goddess  of 
Love  mingled  together,  in  binding  her  omnipotent  spell.* 

The  intimate  combination  which,  in  this  and  various 
other  cases,  exists  between  the  immediate  objects  of  sight, 
and  the  moral  ideas  they  suggest,  led,  in  ancient  times, 
Plato,  as  well  as  his  master  Socrates,  and  many  later  phi- 
losophers of  the  same  school,  to  conclude,  that  the  word 
Beauty,  in  its  literal  acceptation,  denotes  a  quality,  not  of 
matter,  but  of  mmd;  and  that,  as  the  light  we  admire  on 

*  I  have  adopted  in  the  text,  Pope's  version,  (though  somewhat 
paraphrastical)  in  preference  to  the  original;  as  it  combines  at  once 
the  authority  of  ancient  and  of  modern  taste,  in  confirmation  of  the 
point  which  it  is  brought  to  illustrate.  The  words  of  Homer  are  at 
least  equally  apposite  to  my  purpose  with  those  of  his  translator: 

"  E»3-'  f y<  jttsv  ^<AaTH5,  t*  5'  ifH^oi^  iv  3'  6Xfi<rvg, 

Theje  tie  sgais  guoi  of  the  French,  and  the  fortunate  phrase  in  an 
English  song,  ("  the  provoking  charm  of  Cxlia  altogether"')  have 
been  suggested  by  the  same  feeling  with  respect  to  the  problematical 
essence  of  female  beauty.  The  very  word  charm^  when  its  different 
meanings  are  attentively  considered,  will  be  found  an  additional  con- 
firmation of  this  remark. 

"  Tls  not  a  lip  or  eye,  we  Beauty  call, 

"  But  the  joint  force  and  full  result  of  all." 


304  ON  THE  BEAUTIFUL.  [Essay  I. 

the  discs  of  the  moon  and  planets  is,  when  traced  to  its 
original  source,  the  light  of  the  sun,  so  what  is  commonly 
called  the  beauty  of  the  material  world,  is  but  a  reflection 
from  those  primitive  and  underived  beauties,  which  the 
intellectual  eye  can  alone  perceive. 

I  have  already  said,  that,  in  my  opinion,  the  chief  effect 
of  Female  Beauty  depends  on  Expression. — A  similar 
remark  may  be  applied  (though  perhaps  not  altogether  in 
the  same  extent)  to  the  Material  Universe  in  gentral;  the 
Beauty  of  which,  it  cannot  be  denied,  is  wonderfully 
heightened  to  those  who  are  able  to  read  in  it  the  expres- 
sive characters  of  a  governing  intelligence.  But  still  I 
think  that  Beauty,  in  its  literal  sense,  denotes  what  is  pre- 
sented to  the  organ  of  Sight;  and  that  it  is  afterwards 
transferred  to  moral  qualities  by  an  associating  process, 
similar  to  that  which  combines  the  smell  of  a  rose  with  its 
beautiful  form  and  colour;  or  which  embellishes  our  na- 
tive spot  with  the  charms  which  it  borrows  from  the  plea- 
sures of  memory.  The  chief  difference  between  the  cases 
here  mentioned,  consists  in  the  intimate  and  inseparable 
union,  which,  in  the  human  face,  connects  soul  and  body 
with  each  other;  a  union  to  which  nothing  completely 
analogous  occurs  in  any  other  association  whatsoever. 

"  Her  pure  and  eloquent  blood 
"Spoke  in  her  clieek,  and  so  distinctly  wrought, 
"  That  one  might  almost  say  her  body  thout^ht." 

To  the  peculiar  intimacy  of  this  connection,  (which, 
as  long  as  the  beautiful  object  is  under  our  survey,  blends 
the  qualities  of  matter  and  those  of  mind  in  one  common 
perception,)  it  seems  to  be  owing,  that  the  word  Beauty 


Chap.  VI. 3  ON  THE  BEAUTIFITL.  305 

comes,  in  process  of  time,  to  be  applied  to  certain  moral 
qualities  considered  abstractly.*  The  qualities  which  are 
thus  characterized  in  ordinary  discourse,  are,  in  truth, 
exactly  those  which  it  gives  us  the  greatest  delight  to  see 
expressed  in  the  countenance; f  or  such  as  have  a  ten- 
dency (which  is  the  case  with  various  affections  of  the 
mind)  to  improve  the  visible  beauty  which  the  features 
exhibit.  Is  it  surprising,  that,  to  a  person  who  has  been 
accustomed  to  apply  the  epithet  Beautiful  to  the  smile  of 
complacency  and  kindness,  the  same  epithet  should  natu- 
rally occur  as  expressively  characteristical  of  the  disposi- 
tion and  temper,  which  it  is  the  study  of  Beauty  to  display, 
when  solicitous  to  assume  her  most  winning  form?  Such 
transitions  in  the  use  of  words,  are  daily  exemplified  in 
all  the  various  subjects  about  which  language  is  employ- 
ed: And,  in  the  present  instance,  the  transition  is  so  easy 
and  obvious,  that  we  are  at  a  loss  to  say  which  is  the 
literal  and  which  the  metaphorical  Ipeaning. 

In  the  cases  which  have  been  hitherto  under  our  con- 


*  Such  too  seems  to  have  been  the  opinion  of  Cicero,  from  the  fol- 
lowing passage,  which  coincides  remarkably,  in  more  respects  than 
one,  with  the  doctrine  maintained  in  the  text: 

"  Itaque  eorum  ipsorum,  (jua  adsfiectu  sentiuntur,  nullum  aliud 
"animal  pulchritudinem,  venustatem,  convenientiam  partium  sentit; 
"  quam  similitudinem  natura  ratioque  ab  oculis  ad  animum  transfer- 
"  ens,  multo  etiam  magis  pulchritudinem,  constantiam,  ordinem  in 
"consiliis  factisque  conservandum  putat,  £cc.  8cc.  Formam  quidem 
"  ipsam,  Marce  fill,  et  tanquam  faciem  Honesti  vides;  quae,  si  oculis 
"  cerneretur,  mirabiles  amores  (ut  ait  Plato)  excitaret  sapientiae."— 
De  offic.  Lib.  i. 

t  TloTipov  ovv  vofctt,iii  yi^tov  cfZv  rm  uevS'giwTis'j,  ^'i  uv  t»  xxXoi  ri  x'xyxB'et 
Mem.  Lib.  iii.  cap.  x. 


2Q 


30G  ON  THK  BEAUTIFUL.  [Essay  I. 

sideration,  the  visible  object,  if"  it  is  not  the  physical  cause^ 
furnishes,  at  least,  the  occasion  of  the  pleasure  we  feel; 
and  it  is  on  the  eye  alone  that  any  organic  impression  is 
supposed  to  be  made.  Our  other  senses,  indeed,  fre- 
quently contribute  to  the  effect;  but  they  do  so  only 
through  the  medium  of  the  associating  principle,  when, 
by  its  means,  the  pleasures  originally  derived  from  them 
are  blended  and  identified  with  those  peculiar  to  vision. 

The  same  observation  is  applicable  to  all  the  various 
moral  and  intellectual  enjoyments,  which,  by  combining 
themselves  with  the  effects  of  colours  and  of  forms,  may 
embellish  the  original  beauties  of  those  material  objects, 
which,  while  they  please  the  eye,  exercise  the  understand- 
ing, awaken  the  fancy,  or  touch  the  heart.  Hence,  to  a 
botanist,  the  luxury  of  a  garden,  where  every  thing  is 
arranged  with  a  view  to  his  farourite  study;  hence,  to 
the  poet,  the  charms  of  a  romantic  retreat;  hence,  to 
every  mind  alive  to  the  common  sympathies  of  nature, 
the  inspiring  influence  ,of  scenes  consecrated  to  the 
memory  of  worth,  of  valour,  or  of  genius. 

There  is,  however,  nothing  which  places,  in  so  strong 
a  light,  the  truth  of  the  preceding  remarks,  as  the  consent 
of  all  mankind  in  applying  the  word  Beautiful  to  order, 
to  fitness,  to  utility,  to  symmetry;  above  all,  to  that  skill 
and  comprehensiveness,  and  unity  of  design,  which, 
combining  a  multitude  of  parts  into  one  agreeable  whole^ 
blend  the  charms  of  variety  with  that  of  simplicity.  AH 
of  these  circumstances  are  calculated  to  give  pleasure 
to  the  widerstanding;  but  as  this  pleasure  is  conveyed 
through  the  medium  of  the  eyc^  they  are  universally  con- 


Chap.  VI  ]  ON  THE  BEAUTIFUL.  307 

founded  with  the  pleasing  qualities  which  form  the  direct 
objects  of  its  physical  perceptions.* 

The  only  other  external  sense,  to  the  objects  ^f  which 
the  epithet  Beautiful  is  directly  and  immediately  applied, 
is  that  of  hearing.  But  this  use  of  the  word  appears  to 
me  to  be  plainly  transitive^  arising,  in  part,  from  the 
general  disposition  we  have  to  apply  to  one  class  of  our 
perceptions,  the  epithets  strictly  appropriated  to  the  agree- 
able qualities  perceived  by  another.  It  is  thus  we  speak 
of  the  soft  verdure  of  the  fields,  and  of  the  sweet  song  of 
the  nightingale;!  and  that  we  sometimes  heap,  one  upon 
another,  these  heterogeneous  epithets,  in  the  same  de- 
scription. 

"  Softly-siveet  in  Lydian  measures." 

The  poverty  of  language  is  partly  the  cause  of  this; 
but  the  substitution  is,  at  the  same  time,  pleasingly  ex- 
pressive to  the  fancy;  and  its  incongruity  is  never  more 
likely  to  escape  the  severe  examination  of  the  judgment, 
than  when  the  thing  we  wish  to  describe  has  any  tendency 
to  excite  rapture,  to  rouse  enthusiasm,  or  even  to  inspire 
gaiety. 

"  Dulce  ridentem  Lalagen  amabo, 
"  Dulce  loquentem." 

"  Still  drink  delicious  poison  from  thy  eye." 
Perhaps  it  may  appear  to  some,   that  the  general  ana- 

*  I  shall  have  occasion,  in  another  Essay,  to  make  some  additional 
remarks  on  Utility,  Fitness,  8cc.  considered  in  their  relation  to  the 
idea  of  Beauty. 

t"  It  is  remarkable  that,  in  some  languages,  soft  and  sweet  have 
•'  but  one  name,    Doux,  in  French,  signifies  soft  as  well  as  sweet. 


308  ON  THE  DEAUTIFCL.  [Essay  I. 

logy  of  these  transitions  is  sufficient,  of  itself,  indepen- 
dently of  all  other  considerations,  to  account  for  the  ap- 
plication of  the  word  Beauty  to  objects  of  hearing.  But 
although  this  analogy  certainly  goes  a  considerable  way 
towards  a  solution  of  the  problem,  it  by  no  means  re- 
moves the  difficulty  completely;  inas^much  as  it  suggests 
no  reason  why  the  epithet  Beautiful  should  be  applied  to 
agreeable  sounds^  rather  than  to  agreeable  tastes,  or  to 
agreeable  odours.  On  a  little  farther  examination,  how- 
ever,  Ave  shall  find  various  other  circumstances  which 
render  the  transition  much  more  natural  and  much  more 
philosophical  in  the  case  before  us,  than  it  would  be  in 
any  other  class  of  our  perceptions. 

(1.)  Tht picturesque  effect  (if  I  may  use  the  expression) 
which  custom,  in  many  instances,  gives  to  sounds.  Thus, 
the  clack  of  a  mill,  heard  at  a  distance,  conjures  up  at 
once  to  the  mind's  eye  the  simple  and  cheerful  scene 
which  it  announces;  and  thus,  though  in  an  incomparably 
greater  degree,  the  songs  which  delighted  our  childhood, 
transport  us  into  the  well-remembered  haunts  where  we 
were  accustomed  to  hear  them.  Is  it  surprising,  tliat,  on 
such  occasions,  the  same  lan^uaf^e  should  be  sometimes 
transferred  from  the  things  imagined,  to  those  percep- 
tions by  which  the  imagination  was  awakened? 

(2.)  The  expressive  power  of  sounds  naturally  pathetic. 
It  is  thus  that  the  word  Beauty,  which  is  at  first  transfer- 
red from  the  face  to  the  mind,  comes  to  be  re-transfer- 
red from  the  mind  to  the  voice;  more  especially,  when  its 
tones  express  such  passions  as  we  have  been  led,   in  the 

"  The  Latin  dulcis  and  the  Italian  dolce  have,  in  many  cases,  the  same 
"  cUnible  signification." — Burke,  Part  iv.  sect.  22. 


Chap.  VI.3  ON  THE  BEAUTIFUL.  309 

manner  already  explained,  to  consider  as  beautiful.  Such 
a  transference,  which  is  at  all  times  easy  and  obvious, 
seems  to  be  quite  unavoidable,  when  both  face  and  voice, 
at  the  same  moment,  conspire  in  expressing  the  same  af- 
fection or  emotion.  When  the  soft  tones  of  female  gen- 
tleness, and  the  benignity  of  an  angel- smile,  reach  the 
heart  at  one  and  the  same  instant,  the  emotion  which  is 
felt,  and  the  object  by  which  it  is  excited,  engage  the 
whole  of  our  attention;  the  diversity  of  organs  by  which 
the  effect  is  conveyed  disappears  altogether;  and  lan- 
gu:ige  spontaneously  combines,  under  one  common  term, 
those  mixed  attractions  which  are  already  blended  and 
united  in  the  fancy.  Tlie  Beauty  of  a  musical  voice,  and 
the  Harmony  of  beautiful  features,  are  accordingly  ex- 
pressions so  congenial  to  our  habits  of  thinking  and  of 
feeling,  that  we  are  unconscious,  when  we  use  them,  of 
departing  from  their  literal  or  primitive  import. 

Nor  is  the  case  essentially  diiferent  with  some  other 
sounds  which,  in  consequence  of  early  habit,  have  been 
very  intimately  associated  with  the  pleasures  of  vision. 
While  we  are  enjoying,  in  some  favourite  scene,  the  beau- 
ties of  nature,  how  powerfully  do  the  murmur  of  foun- 
tains, the.  lowing  of  cattle,  and  the  melody  of  birds,  en- 
hance the  delight!  and  how  irresistibly  are  we  led,  by  this 
joint  influence  of  "  rural  sights  and  rural  sounds j"*^  to  con- 
found, in  our  conceptions  and  in  our  speech,  these  two 
distinct  sources  of  our  pleasure!  If,  on  such  occasions, 
the  impressions  produced  by  objects  of  Sight  predomi- 
nate so  far,  as  to  render  Beauty  and  not  Harmony  or  Me- 
lody the  generic  word;  this  is  no  more  than  might  be  ex- 
pected, from  the  principles  formerly  stated  with  respect 


310  ON  THE  BEAUTIFUL.  [Essay  I. 

to  the  peculiar  connection  between   the   Eye   and   the 
power  of  Imagination. 

The  transference  being  once  made  in  a  few  instances, 
the  subsequent  extension  of  the  term  Beauty  to  musical 
composition,  and  to  all  other  cases  in  which  the  ear  is  con- 
cerned, will  not  appear  wonderful  to  those  who  have  been 
accustomed  to  study  the  natural  proceedings  of  the  mind, 
as  exhibited  in  the  diversified  applications  of  language. 

(3.)  The  signijicant  power  of  sounds,  in  consequence 
of  conventional  speech.  In  this  way,  they  every  moment 
present  pictures  to  the  imagination;  and  we  apply  to  the 
description,  as  to  the  thing  desciibed,  (with  hardly  any 
consciousness  of  speaking  figuratively),  such  words  as 
lively^  glowi?ig,  lu?ninous,  splendid,  picturesque.  Hence  an 
obvious  account  (as  will  be  afterwards  stated  more  fully) 
of  the  application  of  the  epithet  Beautiful  to  Poetry;  and 
hence  also  (if  the  circumstances  already  suggested  should 
not  be  thought  sufficient  for  the  purpose)  an  additional 
reason  for  its  application  to  Music;  the  natural  expres- 
sion of  which  is  so  often  united  with  the  conventiojial  ex- 
pression of  her  sister  art. 

These  different  circumstances,  when  combined  with 
the  general  causes,  which,  in  other  instances,  produce 
transitive  uses  of  words,  account,  in  my  opinion,  suffi- 
ciently for  the  exclusive  restriction  (among  our  different 
external  senses)  of  the  term  Beauty  to  the  objects  of 
Sight  and  of  Hearing.  To  the  foregoing  considerations, 
however,  I  must  not  omit  to  add,  as  a  cause  conspiring 
very  powerfully  to  the  same  end,  the  intimate  association, 
which,  in  our  apprehensions,  is  formed  between  the  Eye 
and  the  Ear,  as  the  great  inlets  of  our  acquired  know- 


€hap.VI.]  ON  THE  BEAUTIFUL.  311 

ledge;  as  the  only  media  by  which  different  Minds  can 
communicate  together;  and  as  the  organs  by  which  we  re- 
ceive from  the  material  world  the  two  classes  of  pleasures, 
which,  while  they  surpass  all  the  rest  in  variety  and  in 
duration, — are  the  most  completely  removed  from  the 
grossness  of  animal  indulgence,  and  the  most  nearly 
allied  to  the  enjoyments  of  the  intellect.  The  unconscious- 
ness we  have,  in  both  these  senses,  of  any  local  impres- 
sion on  our  bodily  frame,  may  perhaps  help  to  explain 
the  peculiar  facility  with  which  their  perceptions  blend 
themselves  with  other  pleasures  of  a  rank  still  nobler  and 
more  refined. — It  is  these  two  classes,  accordingly,  of  or- 
ganical  pleasures,  which  fall  exclusively  under  the  cogni- 
zance t)f  that  power  of  intellectual  Taste,  which  I  propose 
afterwards  to  examine;  and  for  the  analysis  of  which, 
this  disquisition,  concerning  some  of  the  most  important 
of  its  appropriate  objects,  seemed  to  me  to  form  a  neces- 
sary preparation. 

If  the  view  of  the  subject  now  given  be  just,  we  are  at 
once  relieved  from  all  the  mystery  into  which  philosophers 
have  been  insensibly  led,  in  their  theories  of  Beauty,  by 
too  servile  an  acquiescence  in  the  exploded  conclusions 
of  the  ancient  schools  concerning  general  ideas.  Instead 
of  searching  for  the  common  idea  or  essence  which  the 
word  Beauty  denotes,  when  applied  to  colours,  to  forms, 
to  sounds,  to  compositions  in  verse  and  prose,  to  mathe- 
matical theorems,  and  to  moral  qualities,  our  attention  is 
directed  to  the  natural  history  of  the  human  mind,  and  to 
its  natural  progress  in  the  employment  of  speech.  The 
particular  exemplifications  which  I  have  offered  of  my 
general  principle,  may  probably  be  exceptionable  in  va- 


312  ON  THE  BEAUTIFUL.  (Emyl. 

rious  instances;  but  I  cannnot  help  flattering  myself  with 
the  belief,  that  the  principle  itself  will  bear  examination. 
— Some  objections  to  it,  which  I  can  easily  anticipate, 
may  perhaps  be  obviated  in  part  by  the  following  re- 
marks. 

Although  I  have  endeavoured  to  shew  that  our  first 
notions  of  Beauty  are  derived  from  colours,  it  neither  fol- 
lows, that,  in  those  complex  ideas  of  the  Beautiful  which 
we  are  afterwards  led  to  form  in  the  progress  of  our  ex- 
perience, this  quality  must  necessarily  enter  as  a  compo- 
nent part;  nor,  where  it  does  so  enter,  that  its  efiects  must 
necessarily  predominate  over  that  of  all  the  others.  On 
the  contrary,  it  may  be  easily  conceived,  in  what  manner 
its  effect  comes  to  be  gradually  supplanted  by  those 
pleasures  of  a  higher  cast,  with  which  it  is  combined; 
while,  at  the  same  time,  we  continue  to  apply  to  the  joint 
result,  the  language  which  this  noiv  subordinate,  and 
seemingly  unessential  ingredient,  originally  suggested.  It 
is  by  a  process  somewhat  similar,  that  the  mental  attrac- 
tions of  a  beautiful  woman  supplant  those  of  her  person 
in  the  heart  of  her  lover;  and  that,  when  the  former  have 
the  good  fortune  to  survive  the  latter,  they  appropriate  to 
themselves,  by  an  imperceptible  metaphor,  that  language, 
which,  in  its  literal  sense,  has  ceased  to  have  a  meaning. 
In  this  case,  a  very  pleasing  arrangement  of  nature  is  ex- 
hibited; the  qualities  of  Mind  which  insensibly  stole,  iii 
the  first  instance,  those  flattering  epithets  which  are  des- 
criptive of  a  fair  exterior,  now  restoring  their  borrowed 
embellishments,  and  keeping  alive,  in  the  eye  of  conju- 
gal affection,  that  Beauty  which  has  long  perished  to 
every  other. 

2 


Chap.  VI.]  ON  THE  BEAUTIFUL.  313 

The  progress  just  remarked,  in  the  instance  of  Colours, 
admits  of  an  easy  and  complete  illustration,  in  the  gradual 
transference  of  the  painter's  admiration,  (in  proportion  as 
his  taste  is  exercised  and  improved)  from  the  merely  or- 
ganical  charms  of  his  art,  to  its  sublimer  beauties.  It  is 
not  that  he  is  less  delighted  with  beautiful  colouring  than 
before;  but  because  his  Imagination  can  easily  supply  its 
absence,  when  excellencies  of  a  superior  order  engage  his 
attention.*  It  is  for  the  same  reason,  that  a  masterly 
sketch  with  chalk,  or  with  a  pencil,  gives,  to  a  practised 
eye,  a  pleasure  to  which  nothing  could  be  added  by  the 
hand  of  a  common  artist;  and  that  the  relics  of  ancient 
statuary,  which  are  beheld  with  comparative  indifference 
by  the  vulgar  of  all  countries,  are  surveyed  by  men  of 
cultivated  taste  with  still  greater  rapture,  than  the  forms 
which  live  on  the  glowing  canvas  of  the  painter. 

Hence  too  it  happens,  that,  in  the  progress  of  Taste, 
the  word  Beautiful  comes  to  be  more  peculiarly  appro- 
priated (at  least  by  critics  and  philosophers)  to  Beauty  in 
its  most  complicated  and  impressive  form.  In  this  sense 
we  plainly  understand  it,  when  we  speak  of  analysing 
beauty.  To  Colour,  and  to  the  other  simple  elements 
which  enter  into  its  composition,  although  we  may  still, 
with  the  most  unexceptionable  propriety,  apply  this  epi- 
thet, we  more  commonly  (as  far  as  I  am  able  to  judge) 
apply  the  epithet  pleasing^  or  some  equivalent  expres- 
sion. 

I  shall  only  remark  farther,  on  this  head,  that,  in  the 
imitative  arts,  the  most  beautiful  colours,  when  they  are 

*  See  Note  (X). 

2  R 


314  ON  THE  BKAUTIFUL.  [Essay  I. 

out  of  place,  or  when  they  do  not  harmonize  with  each 
other,  produce  an  effect  which  is  peculiarly  offensive; 
and  that,  in  articles  of  dress  or  of  furniture,  a  passion  for 
gaudy  decoration  is  justly  regarded  as  the  symptom  of  a 
taste  for  the  Beautiful,  which  is  destined  never  to  pass 
the  first  stage  of  infancy. 


CI«ip.Vn.3  ON  THE  BEAUTIFUL,  315 


CHAPTER  SEVENTH, 

CONTINUATION  OF  THE  SUBJECT. — -OBJECTIONS  TO  A  THEORY  OF 
BEAUTY  PROPOSED  BY  FATHER  BUFFIER  AND  SIR  JOSHUA  REY- 
NOLDS. 

JdEFORE  I  conclude  these  disquisitions  concerning  the 
influence  of  Association  on  our  ideas  of  the  Beautiful,  I 
think  it  proper  to  take  some  notice  of  a  theory  upon  the 
subject,  adopted  by  two  very  eminent  men.  Father  Buf- 
fier  and  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds,  according  to  which  we  are 
taught,  that  "  the  effect  of  Beauty  depends  on  Habit 
"  alone;  fthe  most  customary  form  in  each  species  of 
"  things  being  invariably  the  most  beautiful." 

"  A  beautiful  nose"  for  example,  (to  borrow  Mr. 
Smith's  short,  but  masterly  illustration  of  Buffier's  prin- 
ciple) "  is  one  that  is  neither  very  long  nor  very  short; 
*'  neither  very  straight  nor  very  crooked;  but  a  sort  of 
"  middle  among  all  these  extremes,  and  less  different 
"  from  any  one  of  them,  than  all  of  them  are  from  one 
"  another.  It  is  the  form  which  nature  seems  to  have 
"  aimed  at  in  them  all;  which,  however  she  deviates  from 
*'  in  a  great  variety  of  ways,  and  very  rarely  hits  exactly, 
**  but   to   which   all   these   deviations  still  bear  a  very 

*'  strong  resemblance. In  each  species  of  creatures, 

"  what  is  most  beautiful  bears  the  strongest  characters  of 
*'  the  general  fabric  of  the  species,  and  has  the  strongest 
*'  resemblance  to  the  greater  part  of  the  individuals  with 


316  0\  THE  BKAUTIFUL.  [Essay  I 

"  which  it  is  classed.  Monsters,  on  the  contrary,  or  what 
"  is  perfectly  deformed,  are  always  most  singular  and 
"  odd,  and  have  the  least  resemblance  to  the  generality 
"  of  that  species  to  which  they  belong.  And  thus,  the 
"  beauty  of  each  species,  though,  in  one  sense,  the  rarest 
"  of  all  things,  because  few  individuals  hit  the  middle 
*'  form  exactly,  yet  in  another,  is  the  most  common,  be- 
"  cause  all  the  deviations  from  it  resemble  it  more  than 
"  they  resemble  one  another."* 

The  same  opinion  has  been  since  stated,    in   much 
stronger  and  more  explicit  terms,   by  a  still  higher  au 
thority  than  Buffier, — Sir  Joshua  Reynolds. 

*'  Every  species"  (he  observes)  "  of  the  animal  as  well 
"  as  the  vegetable  creation,  may  be  said  to  have  a  fixed 
"  or  determinate  form,  towards  which  Nature  is  continu- 
"  ally  inclining,  like  various  lines  terminating  in  the 
"  centre;  and,  as  these  lines  all  cross  the  centre,  though 
"  only  one  passes  through  any  other  point,  so  it  will  be 
"  found,  that  perfect  beauty  is  oftener  produced  by  na- 
''  ture  than  deformity:  I  do  not  mean  than  deformity  in 
*'  general,  but  than  any  one  kind  of  deformity.  To  in- 
"  stance,  in  a  particular  part  of  a  feature,  the  line  that 
*'  forms  the  ridge  of  the  nose  is  beautiful  when  it  is 
"  straight.  This,  then,  is  the  central  form,  which  is  oftener 
*'  found  than  either  concave,  convex,  or  any  other  ir- 
"  regular  form  that  shall  be  proposed.  As  we  are  then 
''  more  accustomed  to  beauty  than  to  deformity,  we  may 
"  conclude  that  to  be  the  reason  w^hy  we  approve  and  ad- 
"  mire  it,  as  we  approve  and  admire  customs  and  fashions 
"  of  dress  for  no  other  reason  than  that  we  are  used  to 

*  Theory  of  Moral  Sentiments. 


Chap.  VII.]  ON  THE  BEAUTIFUL.  317 

"  them;  so  that,  though  habit  and  custom  cannot  be  said 
*'  to  be  the  cause  of  beauty,  it  is  certainly  the  cause  of 
*'  our  liking  it:  And  I  have  no  doubt,  but  that,  if  we 
"  were  more  used  to  deformity  than  beauty,  deformity 
"  would  then  lose  the  idea  now  annexed  to  it,  and  take 
*'  that  of  beauty;  as  if  the  whole  world  should  agree,  that 
''  yes  and  no  should  change  their  meaning;  yes  would 
■^^  then  deny,  and  no  would  affirm."* 

As  this  theory  has  plainly  taken  its  rise  from  a  mis- 
conception of  the  manner  in  which  the  principle  of  As- 
sociation operates,  the  objections  to  it  which  I  have  to 
offer,  form  a  natural  sequel  to  the  discussions  contained 
in  the  preceding  chapter. 

Among  these  objections,  what  strikes  myself  with  the 
greatest  force,  is, — that,  granting  the  theory  to  be  just, 
so  far  as  it  goes,  it  does  not  at  all  touch  the  main  diffi- 
culty it  professes  to  resolve.  Admitting  it  to  be  a  fact, 
(as  I  very  readily  do,  in  the  sense  in  which  the  proposi- 
tion is  explained  by  Reynolds),  "  That  in  each  species  of 
"  things,  the  most  customary  form  is  the  most  beautiful;" 
and  supposing,  for  the  sake  of  argument,  that  this  fact 
warranted  the  very  illogical  inference,  "  That  the  effiict 
**  of  Beauty  in  that  species  depends  on  habit  alone;"  the 
question  still  remains  to  be  answered;  on  what  principle 
do  we  pronounce  the  Beauty  of  one  species  to  be  greater 
than  that  of  another?  To  satisfy  the  conditions  of  the  pro- 
blem, it  is  obviously  necessary,  not  only  to  shew  how 
one  Rose  comes  to  be  considered  as  more  beautiful  than 
another   Rose;    one    Peacock    as   more   beautiful   than 

*  Idler,  No.  82.   See  also  Reynolds's  Works  by  Malone,  2d  Edit, 
p.  237. 


318  ON  THE  BEAUTIFUL.  fEssay  f 

another  Peacock;  one  Woman  as  more  beautiful  than 
another  Woman;  but  to  explain  why  the  Rose  is  pro- 
nounced to  be  more  beautiful  than  the  Dandelion,  the 
Peacock  more  beautiful  than  the  Stork,  and  a  Beautiful 
Woman  to  be  the  masterpiece  of  Nature's  handy  work. 
To  such  questions  as  these,  the  theory  of  Reynolds  does 
not  furnish  even  the  shadow  of  a  reply. 

This,  however,  is  not  the  only  objection  to  which  it  is 
liable.  When  applied  to  account  for  the  comparative 
Beauty  of  different  things  of  the  same  kind,  it  will  be  found 
altogether  unsatisfactory  and  erroneous. 

In  proof  of  this  assertion,  it  is  almost  sufficient  to  men- 
tion the  consequence  to  which  it  obviously  and  neces- 
sarily leads,  according  to  the  acknowledgment  of  its  in- 
genious authors; — That  no  individual  object  is  fitted  to 
give  pleasure  to  the  spectator,  previous  to  a  course  of 
comparative  observations  on  a  number  of  other  objects 
of  the  same  kind.  It  will  afterwards  appear,  that,  in 
adopting  this  idea,  Buffier  and  Reynolds  have  confound- 
ed the  principle  of  Taste,  (which  is  an  acquired  power, 
implying  comparison  and  reflection)  with  our  natural  sus- 
ceptibility of  the  pleasing  eflfect  which  Beauty  produces. 
In  the  mean  time,  it  is  of  more  importance  to  remark, 
that  neither  of  these  writers  has  attempted  to  assign  any 
reason  why  a  pleasing  effect  should  be  connected  with 
those  qualities  which  are  most  commonly  to  be  observed 
in  Nature;  and  therefore,  granting  that  the  general  fact 
corresponds  with  their  statement,  it  remains  to  be  con- 
sidered, whether  particular  objects  arc  perceived  to  be 
Beautiful,  in  consequence  of  their  coincidence  with  those 
arrangements  at  which  Nature  appears  to  aim;  or  whe- 


♦Jhap.VIIJ  ON  THE  BEAUTIFUL.  319 

ther  our  perception  of  this  coincidence  be  not  a  subse- 
quent  discovery,  founded  on  a  comparison  of  her  pro- 
ductions with  some  notions  of  Beauty  previously  formed. 
To  say,  with  Reynolds,  that  "  we  approve  and  admire 
"  Beauty  because  we  are  more  accustomed  to  it  than 
"  Deformity;  as  we  approve  and  admire  customs  and 
*'  fashions  of  dress,  for  no  other  reason  than  that  we  are 
*'  used  to  them,"  is  manifestly  an  imperfect  solution  of 
the  difficulty.  Even  in  the  article  of  dress,  it  is  not  cus- 
tom alone,  but  the  example  of  those  whom  we  look  up 
to  as  patterns  worthy  of  imitation; — that  is,  it  is  not  the 
custom  of  the  many,  but  the  fashion  of  the  few,  which 
has  the  chief  influence  on  our  judgments;  and  conse- 
quently admitting  (what  I  am  by  no  means  disposed  to 
yield)  that  one  mode  of  dress  is,  in  itself,  as  beautiful  as 
another,  this  concession  would  only  afford  an  additional 
illustration  of  the  power  of  the  associating  principle, 
without  proving  any  thing  in  favour  of  that  conclusion 
which  Reynolds  wishes  to  establish. 

Nor  is  the  instance  of  monstrous  animal  productions, 
appealed  to  by  Buffier,  more  in  point.  The  disgust  which 
they  excite,  seems  to  arise  principally  from  some  idea  of 
pain  or  suffering  connected  with  their  existence;  or  from 
the  obvious  unfitness  of  the  structure  of  the  individual 
for  the  destined  purposes  of  his  species.  No  similar  emo- 
tion is  excited  by  an  analogous  appearance  in  the  vege- 
table, or  in  the  mineral  kingdoms;  or  even  by  those 
phenomena  which  contradict  the  uniform  tenor  of  our 
past  experience,  with  respect  to  Nature's  most  obvious 
and  familiar  laws.  What  occurrence  so  constantly  pre- 
sented to  our  senses  as  the  fall  of  heavy  bodies!  yet  no- 


320  ON  THK  BEAUTIFUL.  [EMayJ 

body  ever  tliought  of  applying  to  it  the  epithet  beautiful. 
The  rise  of  a  column  of  smoke  is  a  comparative  rarity; 
and  yet  how  often  has  it  amused  the  eye  of  the  infant,  of 
the  painter,  of  the  poet,  and  of  the  philosopher! — Al- 
though the  human  form  be  necessarily  fixed  by  its  own 
gravity,  to  the  surface  of  this  globe,  how  beautiful  are 
those  pictures  of  ancient  poetry,  in  which  the  Gods  are 
represented  as  transporting  themselves,  at  pleasure,  be- 
tween earth  and  heaven!  Even  the  genius  of  Shakespcar, 
in  attempting  to  amplify  the  graces  of  a  favourite  Hero, 
has  reserved  for  the  last  place  in  the  climax,  an  attitude 
suggested  by  this  imaginary  attribute  of  the  heathen  di- 
vinities. 

"  A  station,  like  the  herald  Mercury, 
"  New  lighted  on  a  heaven-kissing  hill." 

A  still  more  obvious  example,  leading  to  the  same 
conclusion,  may  be  drawn  from  the  agreeable  effects  of 
lights  and  colours;  the  very  appearances  from  which  I  con- 
ceive our  first  notions  of  beauty  are  derived.  Few,  I  pre- 
sume, will  venture  to  assert,  that  it  is  altogether  owing  to 
custom,  that  the  eye  delights  to  repose  itself  on  the  soft 
verdure  of  a  field;  or  that  there  is  nothing  naturally  at- 
tractive in  the  splendid  illuminations  of  summer.  From 
the  regular  vicissitudes  of  day  and  of  night,  custom  (if 
nothing  else  were  to  operate)  should  entitle  them  both,  in 
the  same  degree,  to  the  appellation  of  Beautiful;  but  such, 
certainly,  has  not  been  the  judgment  of  mankind  in  any 
age  of  the  world.  "  Truly  the  light  is  sweet,  and  it  is  a 
"  pleasant  thing  for  the  eyes  to  behold  the  sun." 

The  criticisms  which  I  have  hazarded  on  the  specula - 

•0 


Chap.  VII. ]  ON  THE  BEAUTIFUL,  521 

tions  of  these  writers  do  not  aflfect  the  certainty,  nor  dc- 
tract  from  the  importance  of  the  assumption  on  which 
they  proceed.  The  only  point  in  dispute  is,  whether  in- 
dividual objects  please  in  consequence  of  their  approxi- 
mation to  the  usual  forms  and  colours  of  Nature;  or  whe- 
ther Nature  herself  is  not  pronounced  to  be  Beautiful, 
in  consequence  of  the  regular  profusion  in  which  she  ex- 
hibits forms  and  colours  intrinsically  pleasing.  Upon 
either  supposition,  great  praise  is  due  to  those  who  have 
so  happily  illustrated  the  process  by  which  taste  is  guided 
in  the  study  of  ideal  beauty;  a  process  which  Reynolds 
must  be  allowed  to  have  traced  and  described  with  ad- 
mirable sagacity,  even  by  such  as  think  the  most  lightly 
of  the  metaphysical  doctrine  which  he  has '  blended  with 
his  statement  of  the  fact. 

I  must  own,  indeed,  that  it  was  not  without  soTne  sur- 
prise, I  first  read  the  Essay  in  which  the  opinion  1  have 
now  been  controverting  is  proposed  by  this  great  artist. 
To  have  found  the  same  paradox  in  the  works  of  an  ab- 
stract philosopher,  however  distinguished  for  ingenuity 
and  learning,  would  have  been  entirely  of  a  piece  with 
the  other  extravagancies  which  abound  in  books  of  sci- 
ence; but  it  is  difficult  to  reconcile  the  genuine  enthusiasm 
with  which  Reynolds  appears  to  have  enjoyed  the  Beau- 
ties, both  of  Nature  and  of  Art,  with  the  belief,  that  "  if 
*'  Beauty  were  as  rare  as  deformity  now  is,  and  deformity 
^'  as  prevalent  as  actual  Beauty,  these  words  would  en- 
"  tirely  change  their  present  meanings,  in  the  same  man- 
"  ner  in  which  the  word  yes  might  become  a  negative, 
"  and  no  an  affirmative,  in  consequence  of  a  general  con- 
"  vention  among  mankind."    The   truth   has  probably 

2  S 


322  ON  THE  BEAUTIFUL.  [Essay  I. 

been,  that,  in  the  judgment  of  Re3'nolds,  (as  too  often 
happens  with  all  men  in  the  more  serious  concerns  of 
life,)  a  prepossession  in  favour  of  a  particular  conclusion, 
added  verisimilitude  to  the  premises  of  which  it  was  sup- 
posed to  be  the  consequence;  and  that  a  long  experience 
of  the  practical  value  of  the  maxim  which  it  was  his 
leading  object  to  recommend,  blinded  hirn  to  the  absur- 
dity of  the  theory  which  he  employed  to  support  it.* 

*  See  Note  (Y). 


ON  THE  BEAUTIFUL. 

PART  SECOND. 


ON  THE  BEAUTIFUL,  WHEN  PRESENTED  TO   THE 
POWER  OF  IMAGINATION. 

J*  ROM  the  account  given  of  Conception  in  my  Analysis, 
of  the  intellectual  faculties,*  it  appears,  that  we  have  a 
power  of  representing  to  ourselves  the  absent  objects  of 
our  perceptions,  and  also  the  sensations  which  we  remem- 
ber to  have  felt.  I  can  picture  oiity  for  example,  in  my 
own  mind, — or  (to  express  myself  without  a  metaphor) 
I  can  think  upon  any  remarkable  building,  or  any  remark- 
able scene  with  which  I  am  familiarly  acquainted.  I  can, 
in  like  manner,  (though  by  no  means  with  the  same  dis- 
tinctness and  steadiness)  think  of  the  Smell  of  a  Rose,  of 
the  Taste  of  a  Pine- Apple,  or  of  the  Sound  of  a  Trum- 
pet. In  consequence  of  the  various  functions  of  this  power, 
which  extend  to  the  provinces  of  all  the  different  senses, 
the  old  English  writers,  (after  the  example  of  the  school- 
men) frequently  distinguish  it  by  the  title  of  Sensus  Com- 
munis^ a  phrase  which  they  employ  precisely  in  the  same 
acceptation  in  which  I  use  the  word  Conception.  It  is  in 

*  See  Philosophy  of  the  Human  Mind, 


324,  <h\  TJIt  HKAUTIFUL.  f  Essay  I. 

this  way  tluit  the  phrase  common  sense  (which  has  now  so 
many  other  meanings,  both  popuhir  and  philosophical)  is 
employed  by  Sir  John  Davis,  in  his  Poem  on  the  Immor- 
tality of  the  Soul;  by  Dr.  Cudworth  in  his  Treatise  of 
Immutable  Morality;  and  by  many  others  both  of  an  ear- 
lier and  of  a  later  date. 

To  the  peculiar  ease  and  vivacity  with  which  we  can  re- 
cal  the  perceptions  of  Sight,  it  is  owing,  that  our  thoughts 
are  incomparably  more  frequently  occupied  in  such  vi- 
sual representations^  that  in  conceiving  Smells,  Tastes,  or 
Sounds;  and  that,  when  we  think  of  these  last  sensations, 
we  generally  strive  to  lay  hold  of  them  by  means  of  some 
visible  object  with  which  they  are  associated.  I  can  easi- 
ly, for  example,  think  of  the  form  and  colour  of  a  Rose, 
with  little  or  no  idea  of  its  smell;  but  when  I  wish  to  con- 
ceive the  smell  as  distinctly  as  possible,  I  find  that  the 
most  effectual  means  I  can  use,  is  to  conceive  the  flower 
itself  to  be  presented  to  my  eye.  The  sense  of  Sight,  ac- 
cordingly, maintains  the  same  preeminence  over  our 
other  senses,  in  furnishing  materials  to  the  power  of  Con- 
ception, that,  in  its  actual  exercise,  belongs  to  it,  as  the 
great  channel  of  our  acquired  information,  and  the  habi- 
tual medium  of  our  intercourse  with  things  external.  If 
there  is  any  difference  between  the  two  cases,  its  preemi- 
nence is  still  more  remarkable  in  the  former  than  in  the 
latter. 

In  treating  of  the  Beauty  of  Perceptible  Objects,  I  have 
already  endeavoured  to  explain  how  this  word  comes  to 
be  applied  to  qualities  specifically  and  essentially  differ- 
cut  from  each  other,  in  consequence  of  the  indivisible 
simplicity  of  the  emotion  which  they  excite  in  the  mind, 


i'artn.]  ON  THE  BEAUTIFUL.  325 

while  they  are  presented  to  it  at  one  and  the  same  moment. 
The  solution  is  more  obviously  satisfactory,  where  these 
qualities  produce  their  effect  through  the  same  common 
channel  of  Vision;  and  this  they  do  in  every  case,  but  that 
of  the  beauties  which  we  are  supposed  to  perceive  by  the 
organ  of  Hearing.  There,  it  must  be  owned,  the  former 
principles  do  not  apply  in  all  their  extent;  but  to  compen- 
sate for  any  deficiency  in  their  application  to  this  class  of 
our  pleasures,  a  variety  of  peculiarities  were  mentioned 
as  characteristical  of  Sounds,  which  seem  to  me  to  place 
their  beauties  nearly  on  a  footing  with  those  which  are 
more  immediately  attached  to  the  perceptions  of  the  eye. 
The  same  observations  hold  still  more  completely  with 
respect  to  the  corresponding  Conceptions  of  these  differ- 
ent qualities.  The  features  of  a  Beautiful  Woman;  the 
amiable  affections  which  they  express;  and  the  musical 
tones  which  accord  with  this  expression,  however  inti- 
mately connected  in  our  thoughts  when  the  object  is  be- 
fore us,  are  united  siill  more  completely,  when  the  power 
of  Conception  (the  Se?isi/s  Communis  of  the  intellect)  at- 
tempts to  grasp  them  all  in  one  combination.  In  this  last 
case,  too,  it  is  the  picture  alone  which  strongly  and  per- 
manently fixes  the  attention;  and  its  agreeable  concomi- 
tants add  to  the  effect  rather  by  the  association  of  fugitive 
impressions  or  feelings,  than  by  that  of  Conceptions,  on 
which  we  are  able  steadily  to  dwell. 

The  manner  in  which  Conception  is  subservient  to 
Imagination,  and  the  grounds  of  that  conspicuous  and 
prominent  place  which,  in  all  the  creations  of  the  latter 
power,  is  invariably  occupied  by  images  borrowed  from 
Sight,  have  been  already  sufiiciently  explained.  It  is  from 


326  ON  THE  BEAUTIFlTL.  [Essay  1. 

the  sense  of  Sight  accordingly  (as  was  formerly  remarked) 
that  Imagination  has  derived  its  name;  and  it  is  extremely- 
worthy  of  observation,  that  to  this  power,  and  to  the  nearly 
allied  one  of  Fancy,  the  epithet  Beautiful  has  exclusively 
been  applied  among  all  our  various  intellectual  faculties. 
We  speak  of  a  beautiful  imagination,  and  a  beautiful  fancy; 
and  to  the  poet,  who  is  supposed  to  unite  both,  we  ascribe 
a  beautiful  genius. 

But  it  is  not  to  visible  things^  nor  to  conceptions  derived 
by  any  of  our  senses  from  the  material  world,  that  the 
province  of  Imagination  is  confined.  We  may  judge  of 
this  from  that  combination  of  intellectual  gratifications 
which  we  receive  through  the  medium  of  Poetry;  an  art 
which  addresses  itself,  in  the  first  instance,  to  the  ear; 
but  which  aspires  to  unite  with  the  organic  charm  of  num- 
bers, whatever  pleasures  imagination  is  able  to  supply* 
These  pleasures  (as  I  have  elsewhere  observed)  are  as 
various  as  the  objects  of  human  thought,  and  the  sources 
of  human  happiness.  "  All  the  beauties  of  external  na- 
"  ture;"  (if  I  may  be  allowed  to  quote  here  a  few  senten- 
ces from  another  work;)  "  all  that  is  amiable  or  interest- 
*'  ing,  or  respectable  in  human  character;  all  that  excites 
"  and  engages  our  benevolent  affections;  all  those  truths 
"  which  make  the  heart  feel  itself  better  and  more  happy; 
"  — all  these  supply  materials,  out  of  which  the  poet 
"  forms  and  peoples  a  world  of  his  own,  where  no  incon- 
"  veniencies  damp  our  enjoyments,  and  where  no  shades 
"  darken  our  prospects." 

"  The  measured  composition  in  which  the  poet  ex- 
"  presses  himself,  is  only  one  of  the  means  which  he  em- 
**  ploys  to  please.  As  the  delight  which  he  conveys  to  the 


Part  II.J  ON  THE  BEAUTIFUL.  327 

"  imagination  is  heightened  by  the  other  agreeable  impres- 
"  sions  which  he  can  unite  in  the  mind  at  the  same  time, 
"  he  studies  to  bestow,  upon  the  medium  of  communica- 
"  tion  which  he  employs,  all  the  various  beauties  of  which 
"it  is  susceptible.  Among  these,  the  harmony  of  num- 
*'  bers  is  not  the  least  powerful;  for  its  effect  is  constant, 
"  and  does  not  interfere  with  any  of  the  other  pleasures 
"  which  language  produces.  A  succession  of  agreeable 
"  perceptions  is  kept  up  by  the  organical  effect  of 
"  words  upon  the  ear,  while  they  inform  the  understan- 
"  ding  by  their  perspicuity  and  precision,  or  please  the 
"  imagination  by  the  pictures  they  suggest,  or  touch  the 
"  heart  by  the  associations  they  awaken.  Of  all  these 
*'  charms  of  language  the  poet  may  avail  himself;  and  they 
"  are  all  so  many  instruments  of  his  art.  To  the  philoso- 
"  pher,  or  to  the  orator,  they  may  occasionally  be  of  use; 
"  and  to  both  they  must  be  constantly  so  far  an  object  of 
"  study,  that  nothing  may  occur  in  their  compositions 
*'  which  may  distract  the  attention,  by  offending  either  the 
"  ear  or  the  taste:  but  the  poet  must  not  rest  satisfied 
"  with  this  negative  praise.  Pleasure  is  the  end  of  his 
"  art;  and  the  more  numerous  the  sources  of  it  which  he 
*'  can  open,  the  greater  will  be  the  effect  produced  by  the 
"  efforts  of  his  genius."* 

To  my  own  mind,  the  above  passage  appears  to  throw 
a  strong  light  on  the  subject  which  is  under  our  conside- 
ration at  present.  In  the  same  manner  in  which  the  Eye 
(while  we  actually  look  abroad  upon  nature)  attaches  to 
its  appropriate  objects  so  great  a  variety  of  pleasures,  both 

*  Elements  of  the  Philosophy  of  the  Human  Mind. 


328  <>N  THE  BEAUTIFLX.  [Essay  I. 

physical  and  moral;  so  to  the  poet,  Language  serves  as  a 
common  channel  or  organ  for  uniting  all  the  agreeable 
impressions  of  which  the  senses,  the  understanding,  and 
the  heart,  are  susceptible: — And  as  the  word  Beauty  is 
naturally  transferred  from  colours  and  forms  to  the  other 
pleasing  qualities  which  may  be  associated  with  these, 
and  to  the  various  moral  qualities  of  which  they  may  be 
expressive;  so  the  same  word  is  insensibly  extended 
from  those  images  which  form  at  once  the  characteristical 
*  feature,  and  the  most  fascinating  charm  of  poetry,  to  the 
numberless  other  sources  of  delight  which  it  opens.* 

The  meaning  of  the  word  Beautiful  becomes  thus  infi- 
nitely more  general  than  before;  and  of  course,  the  objects 
of  Taste  are  infinitely  multiplied.  In  treating,  accordingly 
of  that  intellectual  power,  (which  I  propose  to  do  in  ano- 
ther Essay)  I  shall  confine  my  attention  chiefly  to  Poetical 
Taste;  not  only  because  it  embraces  a  far  wider  range  of 
Beauties  than  any  other,  but  as  it  presupposes  a  certain 
degree  of  Taste  in  the  more  confined  and  less  liberal  arts; 
while  it  implies,  in  a  far  greater  degree  than  any  of  them, 
that  combination  of  the  best  gifts  of  the  head  and  heart 
which  is  expressed  in  our  language  by  the  word  Soul. 
The  process,  at  the  same  time,  by  which  Taste  is  formed, 


*  Of  the  relation  which  the  charm  of  Beautiful  Imagery  bears  to 
the  other  pleasures  of  which  language  is  the  vehicle,  Cowley  seems 
to  have  formed  an  idea,  equally  poetical  and  just  in  the  following 
simile,  which  he  applies  to  the  copious  and  figurative  eloquence  of 
Kis  friend  Dr.  Sprat. 

"  It  does,  like  ThanTss,  the  best  of  rivers,  glide 
"  And  his  bright  fancy,  all  the  way, 
'■'■  Does,  like  the  sunshinr,  lii  it  play." 

Ode  to  the  Royal  Society. 

2 


Part  II.J  ON  THE  BEAUTIFUL.  $29 

in  all  its  various  applications,  will  be  found  to  be  expli- 
cable on  the  same  common  principles. 

Another  reason  for  selecting  the  creations  of  Imagina- 
tion in  preference  to  the  objects  of  Sense,  as  examples  to 
illustrate  my  reasonings  concerning  Taste,  in  general,  is 
suggested  by  a  remarkable  circumstance  in  their  nature, 
which  has  been  too  little  attended  to  by  philosophers: 
That  these  creations  possess,  in  many  instances,  charms 
which  are  incomparably  more  attractive  than  the  realities 
from  which  they  ultimately  derive  their  origin.  Of  this 
very  curious  fact,  (so  contrary  to  every  conclusion  that 
could  have  bten  formed  a  priori)  the  following  imperfect 
hints  may  perhaps  afford  some  explanation. 

1.  The  materials  out  of  which  the  combinations  of  Ima- 
gination are  formed,  although  limited  in  point  of  kind^ 
by  the  variety  of  real  objects,  are  by  no  means  thus  limi- 
ted in  point  o^  degree.  We  can  imagine  Rocks  and  Moun- 
tains more  sublime,  Forests  more  extensive  and  awful, 
Rivers  more  vast  and  impetuous,  than  the  eye  has  ever 
beheld.  In  like  manner,  we  can  add,  in  degree,  to  the 
qualities,  both  physical  and  mental,  of  our  species; — to 
their  strength,  to  their  genius,  to  their  virtue.  But  per- 
haps it  will  be  found,  that,  these  exaggerations  of  the  Im- 
agination are  confined  chiefly  to  things  susceptible  of  aug- 
mentation, in  respect  of  magnitude  or  of  number;  or  at 
least,  that  it  is  chiefly  in  instances  of  this  sort  (where  the 
effect  aimed  at  is  rather  Sublimity  than  Beauty)  that  such 
exaggerations  are  pleasing. 

2.  Imagination,  by  her  powers  ofselectionand  of  com- 
bination,  can  render  her  productions  more  perfect  than 
those  which  are  exhibited  in  the  natural  world.  Defects 

2T 


330  ON  THE  BEAUTIFUL.  [Essay  I. 

may  be  supplied;  redundancies  and  blemishes  removed; 
and  the  excellencies  of  different  individuals  may  be  uni- 
ted into  one  whole.  In  such  cases,  it  cannot,  with  strict 
propriety,  be  said,  that  Imagination  creates  the  Beauties 
she  exhibits.  She  derives  them  not  from  her  own  internal 
resources;  but,  by  a  careful  study  of  Nature,  she  em- 
ploys one  part  of  her  works  to  correct  another,  and  col- 
lects into  a  single  ideal  object,  the  charms  that  are  scat- 
tered among  a  multitude  of  realities.  Nor  does  this  re- 
mark apply  merely  to  the  beauty  of  material  forms;  it 
may  be  extended  (under  proper  limitations)  to  the  repre- 
sentations given,  in  works  of  imagination,  of  human 
life,  and  of  the  characters  and  manners  of  mankind.  By 
skilful  selections  and  combinations,  characters  more  ex- 
alted and  more  pleasing  may  be  drawn,  than  have  ever 
fallen  under  our  observation;  and  a  series  of  events  may 
be  exhibited  in  complete  consonance  with  our  moral  feel- 
ings. Rewards  and  punishments  may  be  distributed  by 
the  poet,  with  an  exact  regard  to  the  merits  of  individuals; 
and  those  irregularities  in  the  distribution  of  happiness 
and  misery  which  furnish  the  siibject  of  so  many  com- 
plaints in  real  life,  may  be  corrected  in  the  world  created 
by  his  genius.  Here,  too,  the  poet  borrows  from  Nature, 
the  model  after  which  he  copies;  not  only  as  he  accom- 
modates his  imaginary  arrangements  to  his  own  imper- 
verted  sense  of  justice,  but  as  he  accommodates  them  to 
the  general  laws  by  which  the  world  is  go\erned;  for 
whatever  exceptions  may  occur  in  particular  instances, 
there  can  be  no  more  doubt  of  the  fact,  that  virtue  is  the 
direct  road  to  happiness,  and  vice  to  misery,  than  that, 
in  the  material  universe,  blemishes  and  defects  are  lost 
among  prevailing  beauty  and  order. 


Part  11]  ON  THE  BEAUTIFUL.  331 

3.  The  poet  can  arrange  the  succession  of  the  various 
emotions  which  he  wishes  to  excite,  in  such  a  manner  as 
to  make  the  transition  agreeable  from  one  to  another;  and 
sometimes  to  delight  his  reader  by  skilful  contrasts.  In 
this  respect  also,  by  a  careful  study  of  Nature,  he  may 
learn  to  communicate  to  his  productions  agreeable  effects, 
which  natural  objects  and  real  events  do  not  always  pos- 
sess. 

A  beauty  of  this  kind  in  Shakespeare  has  been  finely 
remarked  by  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds.  After  the  awful  scene 
in  which  Macbeth  relates  to  his  wife  the  particulars  in  his 
interview  with  the  weird  sisters;  and  where  the  design  is 
conceived  of  accomplishing  their  predictions  that  very 
night,  by  the  murder  of  the  king;  how  grateful  is  the 
sweet  and  tranquil  picture  presented  to  the  fancy,  in  the 
dialogue  between  the  King  and  Banquo,  before  the  cas- 
tle-gate: 

<•  This  castle  hath  a  pleasant  site;  the  air 
"  Nimbly  and  swiftly  recommends  itself 

"  Unto  our  general  sense." 

"  This  guest  of  summer, 


"  The  temple -haunting  martlet,  does  approve 

"  By  his  lov'd  mansionry,  that  heaven's  breath 

"  Smells  wooingly  here.    No  jutting  frieze, 

"  Buttrice,  nor  coigne  of  vantage,  but  this  bird 

"  Hath  made  his  pendant  bed,  and  procreant  cradle. 

"  Where  they  most  breed  and  haunt,  I  have  observ'd 

"  The  air  is  deUcate." 

Reynolds  compares  the  effect  of  this,  to  what  is  called 
repose  in  painting. — This  skilful  management  of  our  plea- 
sant and  painful  emotions,  so  as  to  produce  a  result  that 


332  ON  THE  BEAUTIFLTL.  [Essay  I. 

is  delightful  on  the  whole,  is  practicable  in  all  the  arts 
which  are  addressed  to  the  Imagination.  In  real  life,  we 
know  too  well,  how  much  the  succession  of  our  pleasures 
and  pains  depends  on  causes  beyond  our  control. 

Many  exemplifications  of  the  same  thing  are  to  be  found 
in  the  ancient  Poets.  The  finest  of  them  all,  perhaps,  is 
Homer's  description  of  the  shield  of  Achilles,  where  the 
battles  and  sieges  are,  with  such  transcendent  art,  con- 
trasted with  the  harvest,  the  vintage,  and  the  pastoral 
scenes  of  peace. 

4.  Although,  when  we  analyse  the  combinations  of 
imagination  into  their  component  elements,  the  pleasure 
produced  by  each  of  these  may  be  weaker  than  that  arising 
from  the  correspondent  perception;  yet  it  is  possible  to 
communicate  to  the  mind,  in  a  short  space  of  time,  so 
immense  a  number  of  these  fainter  impressions,  as  to  oc- 
casion a  much  greater  degree  of  pleasure,  in  the  general 
result.  The  succession  of  events  in  the  natural  world, 
although  sufficiently  varied  to  prevent  satiety  and  languor, 
is  seldom  so  rapid  as  to  keep  pace  with  the  restlessness 
of  our  wishes.  But  the  imagination  can  glance,  in  the 
same  moment,  "  from  heaven  to  earth,  from  earth  to  hea- 
"  ven;"  and  can,  at  will,  shift  the  scene,  from  the  gloom 
and  desolation  of  winter,  to  the  promises  of  spring,  or 
the  glories  of  summer  and  autumn.  In  accounting  for 
the  powerful  effect  which  the  pleasures  of  imagination 
occasionally  produce,  I  am  disposed  to  lay  peculiar  stress 
on  this  last  circumstance; — the  rapidity  with  which  they 
may  be  made  to  succeed  each  other,  and,  of  consequence, 
the  number  of  them  that  may  be  concentrated  into  an 
instant  of  time.  A  considerable  part  of  what  Mr.  Gilpin 


Partn.]  OX  THE  BEAUTIFUL.  333 

remarks,  in  the  following  passage,  concerning  the  effects 
of  the  plano-convex  mirror,  in  surveying  landscapes,  may 
be  applied  to  the  subject  now  before  us;  and  I  am  much 
pleased  to  find,  that  this  analogy  has  not  escaped  the 
notice  of  that  ingenious  writer. 

"  In  wooded  scenes,  the  plano-convex  mirror,  which 
"  was  Mr.  Gray's  companion  in  all  his  tours,  hasapleas- 
"  ing  effect.  Distances,  indeed,  reduced  to  so  small  a  sur- 
"  face,  are  lost:  it  is  chiefly  calculated  for  objects  at  hand, 
"  which  it  shews  to  more  advantage.  When  we  examine 
*'  nature  at  large,  we  study  composition  and  effect:  we 
*'  examine  also  the  forms  of  particular  objects.  But,  from 
"  the  size  of  the  objects  of  nature,  the  eye  cannot  perform 
"  both  these  operations  at  once.  If  it  be  engaged  in 
"  general  effects,  it  postpones  particular  objects;  and,  if 
"  it  be  fixed  on  particular  objects,  whose  forms  and  tints 
"  it  gathers  up  with  a  passing  glance  from  one  to  another, 
"  it  is  not  at  leisure  to  observe  general  effects. 

''  But,  in  the  minute  exhibitions  of  the  convex  mirror, 
"  composition,  forms,  and  colours,  are  brought  closer 
"  together,  and  the  eye  examines  the  general  effect,  the 
*'  forms  of  the  objects,  and  the  beauty  of  the  tints,  in  one 
"  complex  view.  As  the  colours,  too,  are  the  very  colours 
"  of  nature,  and  equally  well  harmonized,  they  are  the 
"  more  brilliant,  as  they  are  the  more  condensed.  In  a 
"  chaise,  particularly,  the  exhibitions  of  the  convex  mirror 
"  are  amusing.  We  are  rapidly  carried  from  one  object  to 
"  another.  A  succession  of  high-coloured  objects  is  con- 
"  tinually  gliding  before  the  eye.  They  are  like  the  visions 
"  of  the  imagination^  or  the  brilliant  landscapes  of  a  dream. 
"  Forms  and  colours,  in  brightest  array,  fleet  before  us: 


334  ON  THE  BKAUTIFUL.  [Essay  I. 

*'  and,  if  the  transient  glance  of  a  good  composition  hap- 
"  pen  to  unite  with  them,  we  should  give  any  price  to 
"  fix  and  appropriate  the  scene."* 

The  four  different  considerations  now  suggested  will, 
I  hope,  throw  some  light  on  the  point  which  they  are 
meant  to  illustrate.  At  the  same  time,  I  am  sensible  that 
much  remains  to  be  explained,  in  order  to  account  com- 
pletely for  the  different  effects  produced  by  the  combina- 
tions of  imagination,  and  by  the  realities  from  which  their 
materials  are  collected.  On  this  very  curious  and  fertile 
question,  however,  I  must  here  content  myself  with  re- 
marking, how  strikingly  discriminated,  in  various  re- 
spects, the  laws  are,  which  regulate  the  pleasures  we  de- 
rive from  these  two  sources;  insomuch,  that  a  separate 
consideration  of  both  is  necessary  to  all  who  wish  to  think 
with  justness  and  accuracy  of  either.  Nor  is  the  distinc- 
tion between  them  of  use  in  theory  only:  it  is  of  impor- 
tant practical  utilit)';  and  deserves  more  attention  than  it 
has  yet  attracted,  from  all  who  cultivate  the  fine  arts.  It 
was  for  this  reason  chiefly  that  I  have  kept  it  in  view,  as 
steadily  as  possible,  through  the  whole  of  the  foregoing 
speculations  concerning  the  Beautiful.  An  illustration 
of  some  of  the  mistakes  which  have  originated  in  an  in- 
discriminate application  to  the  various  objects  of  taste, 
of  conclusions  deduced  from  a  partial  study  of  them, 
could  not  fail  to  place  in  a  light  still  stronger  the  necessity 
of  a  more  accurate  analysis  than  has  hitherto  been  at- 
tempted, of  the  general  principles  connected  with  this 
branch  of  the  philosophy  of  the  human  mind.  But  I  have 

*  Gilpin's  Tours,  Sec.  Sec  Vol.  II.  p.  225. 


Part  II.J  ON  THE  BEAUTIFUL.  335 

already  far  transgressed  the  limits  which  I  had  allotted  to 
the  subject  of  this  Essay;  and  must  now  dismiss  it,  for 
tlie  present,  with  a  few  cursory  remarks. 
.  It  has  been  often  observed  by  those  who  have  treated 
of  the  principles  of  criticism,  from  the  time  of  Aristotle 
downwards,  that  many  things  which  are  offensive  in  the 
reality  may  nevertheless  furnish  pleasing  materials  for 
works  of  imagination,  and  even  pleasing  subjects  for  the 
imitative  arts:  And,  although  I  am  far  from  considering 
the  argument  as  completely  exhausted  by  any  of  the 
writers  whom  I  have  happened  to  consult,  yet,  asthe^ac^ 
is  now  universally  admitted,  I  shall  rather  direct  the  at- 
tention of  my  readers,  on  this  occasion,  to  a  proposition 
not  altogether  so  common,  though  equally  indisputable; 
— That  some  things  which  we  see  without  offence,  and 
even  with  pleasure,  in  real  life,  would  excite  disgust,  if 
introduced  into  a  work  of  imagination. 

How  many  unexpected  combinations  of  circumstances 
do  we  meet  with,  not  only  in  history,  but  in  the  daily  in- 
tercourse of  society,  which  we  should  not  hesitate  to  pro- 
nounce unnatural  and  improbable,  if  they  occurred  in  a 
novel!  In  real  life,  this  very  singularity  amuses  by  the  sur 
prise  it  occasions;  but,  in  a  professed  work  of  imagina- 
tion, the  surprise  offends  us,  by  suggesting  doubts  about 
the  fidelity  of  the  representation.*  In  a  work  of  imagina- 

*"Le  vrai  peut  quelquefois  n'etre  pas  vraisemblable." — Boiieau. 

Aristotle  had  plainly  a  similar  idea  in  his  mind,  when  he  remarked, 
that  "nothing  hinders,  but  that  some  true  events  may  possess  that. 
^^ firobability^  the  invention  of  which  entitles  an  author  to  the  name 
-  >'ofPoe^" 

See  a  very  judicious  note  of  Mr.  Twining's  on   this  passagCj 


336  ON  THE  BEAUTIFUL.  [EaMy  I. 

tion,  besides,  our  pleasure  arises,  in  part,  from  our  admi- 
ration of  the  skill  of  the  artist;  and  this  is  never  so 
strongly  displayed,  as  when  extraordinary  events  are 
brought  about  by  a  series  of  ordinary  and  natural  occur» 
rences.  An  incident,  on  the  other  hand,  out  of  the  com- 
mon course  of  human  affairs,  strikes  us  as  a  blemish,  by 
seeming  to  betray  a  poverty  of  invention  and  genius  in 
the  author. 

It  is  chiefly  owing  to  this,  that  all  casual  events  are  un- 
pleasing  in  fictitious  writing,  when  they  are  employed  as 
contrivances  to  bring  about  the  catastrophe.  It  is  perfect- 
ly agreeable  to  the  course  of  nature,  that  a  man,  seem- 
ingly in  good  health,  should  drop  down  in  a  fit  of  apo- 
plexy; but  a  play  would  be  quite  ludicrous  which  admit- 
ted such  an  incident.  We  may  form  some  judgment  of 
this,  from  the  disagreeable  impression  produced  in 
Shakespeare's  JCmg  Johriy  by  the  fate  of  Arthur  after  his 
escape  from  Hubert.  For  the  same  reason,  I  am  inclined 
to  doubt,  whether  the  story  of  Fiesco,  Countof  Lavagna, 
'  which,  in  some  of  its  circumstances,  is  so  admirably 
adapted  for  the  stage,  is  fitted,  on  the  whole,  to  form  the 
ground- work  of  a  tragedy:  And  yet  his  accidental  death 
has  a  wonderfully  fine  effect  in  Dr  Robertson's  narra- 
tive.* 

Something  analogous  to  this  may  be  remarked  in  land- 

and  a  curious  quotation  to  the  same  purpose  which  he  has  produced 
from  Diderot. — Translation  of  Aristotle's  Treatise  on  Poetry,  pp. 
88,  408. 

*  In  the  very  interesting  play  to  which  Schiller  has  prefixed  the 
title  of  Fiesco,  he  has,  with  great  judgment,  departed,  in  this  essen- 
tial particular,  from  the  truth  of  history. — Machiavel  is  said  to  have 
projected  a  dramatic  performance  on  the  same  subject. 

2 


"Part  n.J  QN  THE  BEAUTIFUL.  537 

scape-painting;  in  which  (as  Mr.  Wheatley  observes) 
there  are  many  things  that  would  offend  us,  which  are 
pleasing  in  reality.  For  an  illustration  of  this,  he  has 
selected,  very  happily,  the  beautiful  pleasure-grounds  at 
Islam  in  Derbyshire;  a  scene,  "  where"  (to  quote  his  own 
description)  "  nature  seems  to  have  delighted  to  bring 
"  distances  together;  where  two  rivers,  which  were  in- 
"  gulphed  many  miles  asunder,  issue  from  their  subter- 
"  raneous  passages,  the  one  often  muddy  when  the  other 
*'  is  clear,  within  a  few  paces  of  each  other;  but  they  ap- 
*'  pear  only  to  lose  themselves  again,  for  they  immediate- 
*' ly  unite  their  streams,  just  in  time  to  fall  into  another 
"  current,  which  also  runs  through  the  garden." — "  Such 
"  whimsical  wonders,"  (he  very  justly  adds)  "  lose  their 
"  effect,  when  represented  in  a  picture,  or  mimicked  in 
"  ground  artificially  laid.  As  accidents  they  may  surprise; 
"  but  they  are  not  objects  of  choice." 

To  these  observations  we  may  add,  that  even  where 
every  thing  appears  perfectly  natural  and  probable  in  a 
work  of  imagination,  it  may  yet  offend  the  taste,  by  ex- 
hibiting what  would  be  highly  pleasing  in  a  historical 
composition.  There  are  few  books  more  interesting  than 
Hume's  History  of  England;  but,  if  we  conceived  the 
events  to  be  fictitious,  it  would  make  a  very  indifferent 
romance.  The  truth  seems  to  be,  that  in  a  piece,  where  the 
story  is  plainly  a  fabrication,  and  where  even  the  names 
of  the  characters  are  fictitious,  it  is  impossible  to  keep  up 
the  reader's  interest,  without  a  plot,  which  evidently  ad- 
vances as  the  work  proceeds,  and  to  which  all  the  various 
incidents  are  conceived  to  be  somehow  or  other  subser- 
vient. Hence  the  stress  laid  by  so  many  critics,  ancient 

2U 


338  ON  THE  BEAUTIFUL.  [Essay  I. 

and  modern,  on  the  importance  of  unity  offahle^  in  epic, 
and  still  more  in  tragic  poetry.  Nor  do  the  historical  plays 
of  Shakespeare  furnish  a  real  exception  to  the  general  re- 
mark. Some  of  the  most  popular  of  these,  it  must  indeed 
be  confessed,  consist  entirely  of  a  series  of  incidents, 
which  have  little  or  no  connection  but  what  they  derive 
from  their  supposed  relation  to  the  fortunes  of  the  same 
man.  But  such  pieces,  it  will  be  found,  do  not  interest 
and  affect  us,  on  the  same  principles  with  works  of  ima- 
gination. We  conceive  them  to  exhibit yac?^  which  really 
happened,  considering  them  partly  in  the  light  of  drama- 
tic performances,  and  partly  of  histories;  and,  in  conse- 
quence of  this,  make  allowance  for  many  details,  which, 
in  a  fable  professedly  the  offspring  of  the  poet's  invention, 
we  should  have  pronounced  to  be  absurd. 

It  would  be  worth  while  to  examine  what  kind  of  in- 
cidents please  in  fictitious  composition;  and  to  ascertain 
the  principles  and  rules  of  this  kind  of  writing.  What 
has  been  already  observed  is  sufficient  to  shew,  that  the 
pleasure  we  derive  from  it  is  not  owing  merely  to  its  en- 
larging the  narrow  limits  of  real  history,  by  new  and  un- 
heard of  events;  but  to  something  peculiar  in  the  nature 
of  the  events,  and  in  the  manner  of  connecting  them 
together. 

After  all,  however,  less  practical  danger  is  to  be  appre- 
hended from  transferring  to  the  imitative  arts,  those  habits 
of  feeling  and  judging  which  have  been  formed  by  actual 
experience  and  observation,  than  from  a  transference  to 
human  life  and  external  nature,  of  ideas  borrowed  from 
the  imitative  arts.  If,  in  the  former  case,  an  artist  may  be 
disappointed  in  producing  the  agreeable  effect  at  which 


Vart  II.]  ON  THE  BEAUTIFUL.  339 

he  aims;  in  the  latter,  he  may  expect  the  more  serious 
inconvenience  of  contracting  a  fantastic  singularity  of 
opinions  and  manners,  or  of  impairing  his  relish  for  the 
primary  beauties  which  nature  exhibits. 

A  long  and  exclusive  familiarity  with  fictitious  narra- 
tives (it  has  been  often  observed)  has  a  tendency  to 
weaken  the  interest  we  take  in  the  ordinary  business  of 
the  world;  and  the  slightest  attempt  to  fashion  the  man- 
ners after  such  models  as  they  supply,  never  fails  to  ap= 
pear  ludicrous  in  the  extreme.  The  case  is  nearly  similar 
with  the  painter  who  applies,  to  the  beauties  of  a  rich  and 
varied  prospect,  the  rules  of  his  own  limited  art;  or  who,  in 
the  midst  of  such  a  scene,  loses  its  general  effect,  in  the 
contemplation  of  some  accidental  combination  of  circum- 
stances suited  to  his  canvas.  But  on  this  point  I  have 
already  enlarged  at  sufficient  length. 

^  *  *  * 

I  intended  to  have  prosecuted  still  farther,  the  subject  of 
this  Essay,  and  to  have  added  to  it  some  supplemental 
observations  on  the  import  of  the  word  Beauty,  when 
applied  to  Virtue;  to  Philosophical  Theories;  to  Geome- 
trical Propositions,  and  to  some  other  classes  of  Scien- 
tific Discoveries;  in  all  of  which  instances,  the  principles 
already  stated  will  be  found  to  afford  an  easy  explanation 
of  various  apparent  anomalies  in  the  use  of  the  expres- 
sion. Enough,  however,  has  been  already  said,  for  the 
purposes  I  have  in  view  in  the  sequel  of  this  volume;  and 
I  shall,  therefore,  reserve  the  topics  now  mentioned  for 
future  discussion. 


ESSAY  SECOND. 


ON  THE   SUBLIME. 


riiEFACE. 

IVl  Y  thoughts  were  first  turned  particularly  to  this  sub* 
ject,  by  the  opposite  judgments  which  have  been  lately 
pronounced  on  the  merits  of  Mr.  Burke's  theory  of  the 
Sublime,  by  two  writers  of  great  originality,  acuteness, 
and  taste, — Mr.  Price  and  Mr.  Knight.  The  former  of 
these  gentlemen  having  done  me  the  honour,  in  spring 
1808,  to  allow  me  the  perusal  of  a  very  valuable  supple- 
ment to  what  he  has  already  published  in  defence  of  the 
doctrines  of  his  late  illustrious  friend,  I  was  induced  to  com- 
mit to  writing,  a  few  hasty  and  unconnected  notes,  on  some 
incidental  points  to  which  his  manuscript  had  attracted 
my  attention.  It  was  upon  this  occasion,  that  the  leading 
idea  occurred  to  me  which  runs  through  the  whole  of  the 
following  Essay;  and  which  I  had  the  boldness  to  commu- 
nicate to  Mr.  Price,  in  the  very  crude  form  in  which  it  at 
first  presented  itself.  At  that  period,  I  had  little  or  no  in- 
tention to  prosecute  it  any  farther;  but  having  afterwards 
recollected  its  close  analogy  to  a  principle  which  forms 
the  basis  of  the  foregoing  speculations  concerning  the 
Beautiful,  I  resolved  to  resume  the  consideration  of  it 
more  deliberately,  as  soon  as  my  necessary  engagements 
should  permit;  in  the  hope  that  the  two  discussions  might 


Essay  Il.j  ON  THE  SUBLIME.  -  34  i 

reflect  additional  lights  on  each  other.  In  this  I  flatter 
myself  that  I  have  not  been  altogether  disappointed;  and 
accordingly,  I  have. placed  them  together,  in  arranging 
the  materials  of  this  volume;  although  without  any  direct 
references  in  either  to  the  parallel  train  of  thought  pur- 
sued in  the  other.  An  attentive  reader  w^ill  be  able  easily 
to  collect  for  himself  the  general  results  to  which  they 
kad. 

The  Essay  on  the  Beautiful  has  been  lying  by  me, 
much  in  the  same  state  in  which  it  now  appears,  for  seve- 
ral years.  The  greater  part  of  that  on  the  Sublime,  (with 
the  exception  of  a  few  pages,  which  I  have  copied  very 
nearly  from  the  notes  transmitted  to  Mr.  Price)  was 
written  last  summer,  during  a  short  residence  in  a  dis- 
tant part  of  the  country,  where  I  had  no  opportunity 
whatever  of  c'onsulting  books.  I  mention  this  merely  to 
account  for  the  selection  of  my  illustrations,  many  of 
which,  I  am  sensible,  may  appear  too  hackneyed  to  be  in- 
troduced into  a  disquisition,  which  it  would  have  been 
desirable  to  enliven  and  adorn  by  examples  possessing 
something  more  of  the  zest  of  novelty  and  variety.  At 
first,  I  intended  to  have  corrected  this  fault,  as  far  as  I 
was  able,  in  transcribing  my  papers  for  the  press;  but,  on 
more  mature  reflection,  it  struck  me  forcibly,  that  the 
quotations  which  had  oftered  themselves  spontaneously 
to  my  memory,  while  engaged  in  the  consideration  of 
general  principles,  were  likely  from  the  very  circumstance 
of  their  triteness,  to  possess  some  important  advantages 
over  any  that  I  could  substitute  in  their  place.  They 
shew,  at  least,  by  their  familiarity  to  every  ear,  that  I  have 
not  gone  far  out  of  my  way,  in  quest  of  instances  to  sup- 


342  ON  THE  SUBLIME.  [Essay  H. 

port  a  preconceived  hypothesis;  and  afford  a  presumption, 
that  the  conchisions  to  which  I  have  been  led,  are  the  natu- 
ral result  of  impressions  and  associations  not  confined  to  a 
small  number  of  individuals.  Whether  indolence  may 
not  have  contributed  somewhat  to  fortify  me  in  these  opi- 
nions, it  is  now  too  late  for  me  to  consider. 


ON  THE  StTBLIME. 


CHAPTER  FIRST, 

OF  SUBLIMITY,  IN  THE  LITERAL  SENSE  OF  THE  WORD. 

Among  the  writers  who  have  hitherto  attempted  to 
ascertain  the  nature  of  the  Sublime,  it  has  been  very 
generally,  if  not  universally  taken  for  granted,  that  there 
must  exist  some  common  quality  in  all  the  various  ob- 
jects characterized  by  this  common  epithet.  In  their  re- 
searches, however,  concerning  the  essential  constituent 
of  Sublimity,  the  conclusions  to  which  they  have  been 
led  are  so  widely  different  from  each  other,  that  one 
would  scarcely  suppose,  on  a  superficial  view,  they  could 
possibly  relate  to  the  same  class  of  phenomena; — a  cir- 
cumstance the  more  remarkable,  that,  in  the  statement  of 
these  phenomena,  philosophical  critics  are,  with  a  few 
trifling  exceptions,  unanimously  agreed. 

Mr.  Burke  seems  disposed  to  think,  that  the  essence 
of  the  sublime  is  the  terrible^  operating  either  openly  or 
more  latently,*  Helvetius  has  adopted  the  same  general 

*  In  one  passage,  he  asserts  this,  in  very  unqualified  terms:  "  Ter- 
"  ror  is,  in  all  cases  whatsoever,  either  more  openly  or  latently,  the 
"  ruling  principle  of  the  sublime." — (Part  ii.  Sect.  2.) 

In  other  instances  he  expresses  himself  more  guardedly;  speaking 


344  ON  THE  SUBLIME  [*5s3ay  ft. 

idea,  but  has  expressed  it  (in  my  opinion)  rather  more 
precisely;  asserting,  that  "  the  sublime  of  imagery  always 
*'  supposes  an  emotion  of  terror  begun;  and  that  it  cannot 
*'  be  produced  by  any  other  cause. "f  Dr.  Blair,  with  great 
diffidence,  has  hazarded  a  conjecture,  that  the  solution  of 
the  problem  is  to  be  found  in  the  idea  of  mighty  power 
or  force;  and  Mr.  Knight  has  lately  contended  for  a 
theory  which  ascribes  the  effect  in  question  to  the  influ- 
ence of  mental  energy^  exciting  a  sympathetic  energy  in 
the  mind  of  the  spectator  or  of  the  reader.  According  to 
Lord  Karnes,  "a  beautiful  object,  jft/acet/i^z^A,  appearing 
"  more  agreeable  than  formerly,  produces  in  the  spectator 
"  a  new  emotion,  termed  the  emotion  of  sublimity;  and 
^'  every  other  emotion,  resembling  this  emotion  of  eleva- 
*'  tion,  is  called  by  the  same  name. "J  Longinus,  who 
confined  his  attention  to  the  Sublime  in  writing,  contented 
himself  with  remarking  one  of  its  characteristical  effects; 
"  that  it  fills  the  reader  with  a  glorying,  and  sense  of  in- 
"  ward  greatness:" — A  remark  which  has  been  sanction- 

of  Terror  as  only  one  of  the  sources,  though  one  of  the  chief  sources 
of  Sublimity. 

t  De  rHomme,  de  scs  facultes,  et  de  son  education. 

%  "  Thus  generosity  is  said  to  be  an  elevated  emotion,  as  well  as 
"  great  courage;  and  that  firmness  of  soul  which  is  superior  ta 
«  misfortunes,  obtains  the  peculiar  name  of  nmgnanhnity.  On  the 
«  other  hand,  every  emotion  that  contracts  tlxe  mind,  and  fixeth  it 
"upon  things  trivial  or  of  no  importance,  is  termed  low  by  its  re- 
«  se?nblance  to  a  little  or  low  object  of  sight:  thus  an  appetite  for 
"  trifling  amusements  is  called  a  loiu  taste.  Sentiments  and  even 
"  expressions,  are  characterized  in  the  same  manner:  an  expression 
"or  sentiment  that  raises  the  mind  is  denominated  great  or  elevated; 
"  and  hence  the  Sublime  in  poetry." 

Elements  of  Criticism. 


Chap.  I.]  ON  THE  SUBLIME.  345 

ed  by  the  concurrent  approbation  of  all  succeeding  critics, 
however  widely  they  have  differed  in  their  conclusions 
concerning  the  specific  cause  with  which  the  effect  is  con- 
nected. 

In  consequence  of  these  attempts  to  resolve  all  the  dif- 
ferent kinds  of  Sublimity  into  one  single  principle  a 
great  deal  of  false  refinement  has  been  displayed  in  bend- 
ing facts  to  preconceived  systems.  The  speculations  of 
Mr.  Burke  himself  are  far  from  being  invulnerable  in  this 
point  of  view;  although  he  may  justly  claim  the  merit  of 
having  taken  a  more  comprehensive  survey  of  his  sub- 
ject, and  of  having  combined,  in  his  induction,  a  far 
more  valuable  collection  of  particular  illustrations,  than 
any  of  his  predecessors. 

It  appears  to  me,  that  none  of  these  theorists  have  paid 
sufficient  attention  to  the  word  sublime  in  its  literal  and 
primitive  sense;  or  to  the  various  natural  associations 
founded  on  the  physical  and  moral  concomitants  of  great 
Altitude.*  It  is  surely  a  problem  of  some  curiosity  to 
ascertain,  what  led  the  Greeks  to  employ  the  word  'T  Yos 
in  this  metaphorical  acceptation;  and  what  has  determined 
the  moderns  to  adopt  so  universally  the  same  figure,  and 
to  give  to  its  meaning  a  still  greater  degree  of  latitude. 
No  other  term  can  be  found  in  our  language  which  con- 
veys precisely  the  same  notion;  and  to  this  notion  it  is 
now  so  exclusively  appropriated,  that  its  literal  import  is 
seldom  thought  of.  To  use  the  word  sublimity,  in  prose 

*  As  for  the  etymology  of  Sublime  (sublimis)  I  leave  it  willingly 
to  the  conjectures  of  lexicographers.  The  common  one  which  we 
meet  with  in  our  Latin  dictionaries  (q.  supra  limum)  is  altogether 
unworthy  of  notice. 

2X 


346  ox  THE  SUBLIME.  [Essay  II. 

composition,  as  synonymous  with  altitude  or  height, 
would  be  affectation  and  pedantry. 

Among  the  critics  hitherto  mentioned,  Lord  Karnes 
alone  has  observed,  that,  "  generally  speaking,  the  figu- 
"  rative  sense  of  a  word  is  derived  from  its  proper 
"  sense;"  and  that  "  this  holds  remarkably  with  respect 
"  to  sublimity."  But  of  this  observation,  so  just  and  im- 
portant in  itself,  he  has  made  little  or  no  use  in  the  sequel; 
nor  has  he  once  touched  on  the  most  interesting  and 
difficult  point  in  the  problem, — \\\q  grounds  of  that  natural 
transhion  which  the  mind  is  disposed  to  make  from 
Sublimity,  literally  so  called,  to  the  numerous  metaphori- 
cal uses  of  the  term.  To  assert  that,  in  all  these  cases, 
an  emotion  somexvhat  similar  is  experienced^^  is  at  best 
but  a  vague  and  unsatisfactory  solution  of  the  difficulty. 

Before  I  proceed  farther,  it  is  proper  for  me  to  observe, 
that  my  aim  is  not  to  substitute  a  new  theory  of  my  own, 
instead  of  those  offered  by  my  predecessors;  but  only  to 

*  "  An  increasing  series  of  numbers, /^rorfwc/w^-  an  emotion  si7ni/ar 
*'  to  that  of  mounting  ufinvard.)  is  commonly  termed  an  ascending  se- 
"  ries:  a  series  of  numbers  gradually  decreasing,  firoducing  an  emO' 
"  tion  similar  to  that  of  going  donvriivard,  is  commonly  termed  a  de- 
"  scending  series. — The  veneration  we  have  for  our  ancestors,  and 
'•  for  the  ancients  in  general,  being  &i?}iilar  to  the  emotion  produced 
"  by  an  elevated  adject  of  sight^  justifies  the  figurative  expression,  of 
"  the  ancients  being  raised  above  us,  or  possessing  a  sufierior  place. 

*' ; — The  notes  of  the  gamut,  proceeding  regularly  from   the 

"  blunter  or  grosser  sounds,  to  the  more  acute  and  piercing,  pro- 
"  duce  in  the  hearer  a  feeling  somewhat  similar  to  what  is  /iroduced  by 
"  mounting  upward;  and  this  gives  occasion  to  the  figurative  expres- 
"  sions,  a  high  note,  and  a  low  note." — Elements  of  Criticism, 

I  need  scarcely  remark,  that,  in  these  varioiis  instances,  the  real 
difficulty,  so  far  from  being  explained,  is  not  even  pointed  out  as  an 
object  of  curiosity. 


Chap.  I.J  ON  THE  SUBLIME.  347 

account,  from  the  general  laws  of  human  thought,  for  the 
various  metaphorical  or  transitive  meanings  of  the  word 
Sublimity.  If  I  shall  be  successful  i"n  this  attempt,  I  may, 
perhaps,  be  able  to  throw  some  light  on  the  circum- 
stances, by  which  such  a  variety  of  hypotheses,  so  widely 
different  from  each  other,  have  been  suggested  by  the 
same  phenomena.  My  own  opinion  is,  that  there  is  a 
large  mixture  of  truth  in  most  of  these  theories;  but  that 
all  of  them  have  taken  their  rise  from  partial  views  of  the 
subject,  or  rather  from  a  mistaken  view  of  the  nature  of 
the  problem  to  be  resolved. 

In  reflecting  on  the  circumstances  by  which  Sublimity 
in  its  primitive  sense  is  specifically  distinguished,  the 
first  thing  that  strikes  us  is,  that  it  carries  the  thoughts  in 
a  direction  opposite  to  that  in  which  the  great  and  uni- 
versal law  of  terrestrial  gravitation  operates.  Hence  it  is, 
that  while  motion  downwards  conveys  the  idea  only  of 
a  passive  obedience  to  the  laws  of  nature,  motion  up- 
wards  always  produces,  more  or  less,  a  feeling  of  pleasing 
surprise,  from  the  comparative  rarity  of  the  phenomenon, 
In  the  ascent  of  flame;  of  sparks  of  fire;  of  rockets;  nay, 
even  of  a  column  of  smoke,  there  is  something  amusing 
and  fascinating  to  the  eye; — trifling,  however,  in  the  ef- 
fect produced  on  the  imagination,  when  compared  with 
the  flight  of  an  eagle  soaring  towards  the  sun.  The  fact 
is,  that  the  ascent  of  an  animated  being  into  the  upper 
regions,  while  it  attraats  the  attention,  in  common  with 
the  ascent  of  smoke  or  of  flame,  exhibits  active  powers 
which  are  completely  denied  to  ourselves,  not  only  in  de- 
gree, but  in  kind:  and  accordingly,  when  we  wish  to  con- 
vey the  idea  of  a  supernatural  agent,  the  most  obvious 


548  ON  THE  SUBLIME.  [Essay  11. 

im  ige  which  presents  itself,  is  that  of  the  human  form 
invested  with  wings;  penms  non  homini  datis.  The  same 
image  has  been  employed  for  this  purpose,  in  all  ages 
and  in  all  countries;  and  must  therefore  have  been 
suggested  by  the  common  nature  and  common  circum- 
stances of  the  human  race.* 

An  image  perfectly  analogous  to  this  has  universally 
occurred  as  an  expressive  type  of  those  mental  endow- 
ments which  are  confined  to  a  few  favoured  individuals. 
It  is  thus  we  speak  of  the  Jiig/its  of  imagination  and  of 
fancy;  both  of  which  powers  are  commonly  supposed  to 
be  the  immediate  gift  of  heaven;  and  not,  like  our  scien- 
tific habits  and  acquirements,  the  result  of  education  or 
of  study. 

Among  the  sciences,  Astronomy  is  that  to  which  the 
epithet  Sublime  is  applied  with  the  most  appropriate  pre- 
cision; and  this  evidently  from  the  Elevation  of  the  ob- 
jects with  which  it  is  conversant:  "  A'erias  tentasse  domos, 
^^  animogue  rotundum  Percurrisse  polumy — We  do  not, 
however,  speak  of  the  flights  of  the  astronomer,  as  we 
do  of  those  of  the  poet;  because  the  proceedings  of  ex- 
perience and  of  reason  are  slow  in  comparison  of  those 
of  imagination.  Ovid  has  happily  marked  this  circum- 
stance by  the  word  scandere^  in  the  following  verses, 
which  I  quote  chiefly  on  account  of  the  additional  proof 
they  afford  of  the  intimate  association  between  the  con- 
ception of  mere  height  or  superiority^  and  of  that  meta- 
phorical sublimity  which  falls  under  the  cognizance  of 
critical  and  of  ethicid  inquirers. 

*  See  Note  (Z). 


Chap.  I]  ON  THE  SUBLIME.  349 

"  Felices  animos,  quibus  haec  cognoscere  primis 

"  Inque  domos  superas  scandere  cura  fmt! 
»'  Credibile  est  illos  pariier  vitiisque  locisque 

"  Altius  Immanis  exseruisse  caput. 
"  Non  V'enus  et  Vinum  sublimia  pectora  fregit, 

"  Officiumve  fori,  militiaeve  labor, 
"  Nee  levis  ambitio,  perfusaque  gloria  fuco, 

"  Mcignarumve  fames  sollicitavil  opum. 
"  Admovere  oculis  disiantia  sidera  nostris, 

''  iEtheraque  ingenio  supposuere  suo. 
"  Sic  peiitur  coelum." — 

Eminent  moral  qualities  too,  particularly  those  of  the 
more  rare  and  heroicai  kind,  are  frequently  characterized 
by  the  same  language. 

-"  Fauci  quos  aequus  amavit 


"  Jupiter,  aut  ardens  evexit  ad  aethera  virtus,' 
"  Dis  geniti,  potuere." — 

"  Virtus,  recludens  immeritis  mori 
"  Coelum,  negata  tentat  iter  via: 
''  Cffilusque  vulgares  et  udam 

"  Spernit  humum  fugiente  penna." 

The  more  sober  imagination  of  philosophical  moralists 
has,  in  general,  disposed  them  to  content  themselves  with 
likening  the  discipline  of  a  virtuous  life  to  a  toilsome  as- 
cent up  a  rugged  steep,  growing  less  and  less  difficult  at 
every  step  that  we  gain.  In  this,  as  in  the  allusions  just 
quoted  from  the  poets,  the  radical  idea  is,  a  continued 
course  of  active  exertion,  in  opposition  to  the  downward 
tendency  of  terrestrial  gravitation.* 

To  the  more  eminent  and  distinguishing  attainments, 

*  See  Note  (A  a). 


350  ON  THE  SUBLIME.  [Essay  U. 

accordingly,  of  the  virtuous  man,  some  modern  writers 
have  given  the  title  of  the  moral  sublbne;  a  metaphorical 
phrase,  to  which  another  natural  association,  afterwards 
to  be  mentioned,  lends  much  additional  propriety  and 
force. 

Three  other  very  conspicuous  peculiarities  distinguish 
Sublimity  from  Depth,  and  also  from  horizontal  Distance. 
1.  The  vertical  line  in  which  Vegetables  shoot:  2.  The 
erect  form  of  Man,  surmounted  with  the  seat  of  intelli- 
gence, and  with  the  elevated  aspect  of  the  human  face  di- 
vine: 3.  The  upward  growth  of  the  Human  Body,  during 
that  period  when  the  intellectual  and  moral  progress  of 
the  mind  is  advancing  with  the  greatest  rapidity: — All  of 
them  presenting  the  most  impressive  images  of  an  as- 
piring ambition,  or  of  a  tendency  to  rise  higher;  in  op- 
position to  that  law  oi  g7'avity\v\\ich^  of  all  physical  facts, 
is  the  most  familiar  to  our  senses. 

With  these  three  circumstances,  there  is  a  fourth  which 
conspires,  in  no  inconsiderable  degree,  in  imparting  an 
allegorical  or  typical  character  to  literal  sublimity.  I  allude 
to  the  Rising,  Culminating,  and  Setting  of  the  heavenly 
bodies; — more  particularly,  to  the  Rising,  Culminating, 
and  Setting  of  the  Sun;  accompanied  with  a  corresponding 
increase  and  decrease  in  the  heat  and  splendour  of  his 
rays.  It  is  impossible  to  enumerate  all  the  various  analo- 
gies which  these  familiar  appearances  suggest  to  the  fan- 
cy. I  shall  only  mention  their  obvious  analogy  to  the 
Morning,  Noon,  and  Evening  of  life;  and  to  the  short  in- 
terval of  Meridian  Glory,  which,  after  a  gradual  advance 
to  the  summit,  has  so  often  presaged  the  approaching  de- 
cline of  human  greatness. 


Chap.  I.]  ON  THE  SUBLIME.  351 

It  is  not,  however,  to  be  imagined,  because  Height  is  a 
source  of  SubHme  emotion,  that  Depth  must  necessarily 
affect  the  mind  with  feelings  of  an  opposite  description. 
Abstracting  altogether  from  the  state  of  the  fact,  which 
is  decisive  against  such  a  supposition,  we  should  not  be 
entitled  to  draw  this  conclusion  from  any  of  the  theoreti- 
cal considerations  hitherto  stated.  For  although,  in  most 
cases,  motion  downwards  conveys  the  idea  of  a  passive 
obedience  to  physical  laws,  it  frequently  implies  active 
powers  exactly  the  same  with  those  which  are  displayed  in 
the  ascent  of  animated  beings.  Instances  of  this  occur  in  the 
equable  and  regulated  descent  of  a  bird,  when  about  to 
alight  on  the  ground;  and,  (what  is  still  more  to  our  pur- 
pose) in  the  stooping  flight  of  a  hawk  or  of  an  eagle,  dart- 
ing upon  its  quarry; — a  motion  which  is  sometimes  sud- 
denly arrested  in  its  accelerating  career,  and  instantly  suc- 
ceeded by  a  retreat  into  the  clouds. 

It  is  to  be  remembered,  besides,  that,  in  the  descent  of 
bodies  from  a  great  height,  their  previous  ascent  is  im- 
plied; and  accordingly,  the  active  power  by  which  their 
elevation  was  effected,  is  necessarily  recalled  to  the  imagi- 
nation, by  the  momentum  acquired  during  the  period  of 
their  fall.* 

The  feelings  produced  by  looking  downwards  from  the 
battlement  of  a  high  tower,  or  from  the  edge  of  a  precipi- 
tous  rock,  have  also  had  a  frequent  place  in  sublime  des- 
criptions; and  Mr.  Burke  seems  to  have  thought,  that  they 
are  still  more  powerful  in  their  effect,  than  those  excited 

*  The  same  idea  (as  will  afterwards  appeal'  more  fully)  is  associsi- 
ted  with  the  metaphorical  use  of  the  same  language. 

"  Si  cadendum  est  mihi,  coelo  cecidisse  velim." 


352  ON  THE  SUBLIME.  [Essay  H. 

by  the  idea  of  great  altitude.  In  this  opinion  I  cannot 
agree  with  him,  if  it  be  understood  to  imply  any  thing 
more  than  that  a  particular  eminence  may  appear  con- 
temptible when  viewed  from  below,  while  it  produces  an 
emotion  allied  to  the  sublime,  on  a  spectator  who  looks 
down  from  its  summit.  Of  the  possibility  of  this  every 
person  must  be  satisfied  from  his  own  experience;  but  it 
is  altogether  foreign  to  the  question,  whether  Height  or 
Depth  in  general^  is  capable  of  producing  the  strongest 
impression  of  Sublimity;  a  question,  the  decision  of  which 
appears  to  me  to  be  not  more  difficult  or  dubious  than 
that  of  the  former;  and  which  I  shall  endeavour  afterwards 
to  place  beyond  the  reach  of  controversy,  in  a  subsequent 
part  of  this  essay. 

The  feelings,  at  the  same  time,  of  which  we  are  con- 
scious in  looking  down  from  an  eminence,  are  extremely 
curious;  and  are,  in  some  cases,  modified  by  certain  in- 
tellectual processes,  which  it  is  necessary  to  attend  to,  in 
order  to  understand  completely  the  principles  upon  which 
Depth  has  occasionally  such  a  share,  in  adding  to  the 
power  of  sublime  emotions. 

The  first  and  the  most  important  of  these  processes  is, 
the  strong  tendency  of  the  imagination  to  represent  to  us, 
by  an  ideal  change  of  place,  the  feelings  of  those  who  are 
below;  or  to  recal  to  us  our  own  feelings,  previous  to  our 
ascent.  This  tendency  of  the  imagination  we  are  the  more 
disposed  to  indulge,  as  it  is  from  heloiu  that  altitudes  are 
most  frequently  viewed;  and  as  we  are  conscious,  when 
we  look  downwards,  of  the  unusual  circumstances  in 
which  we  are  placed.  We  compare  the  apparent  Depth 
with  the  apparent  Height,  and  are  astonished  to  find  how 

2 


Chap.  I.]  ON  THE  SUBUME.  353 

much  we  liad  underrated  the  latter.  It  is  owing  to  this, 
that  mountains,  when  seen  from  the  contiguous  plain, 
produce.their  sublimest  effect  on  persons  accustomed  to 
visit  their  summits;  and  that  a  lofty  building,  like  the 
dome  of  St.  Paul's,  acquires  ever  after  tenfold  grandeur 
in  our  estimation,  when  we  have  once  measured  its  height, 
step  by  step,  and  have  looked  down  from  it  upon  the 
humble  abodes  of  its  ordinary  spectators. 

On  the  other  hand,  in  looking  upwards  to  a  precipice, 
if  one  of  our  fellow-creatures,  or  even  one  of  the  lower 
animals,  should  be  placed  on  the  brink,  the  principle  of 
sympathy  transports  us  instantly,  in  imagination,  to  the 
critical  spot;  exciting  in  us  some  degree  of  the  same  feel- 
ings which  we  should  there  have  experienced.  "  On  the 
"  cliffs  above,"  (says  Gray,  in  the  journal  of  one  of  his 
tours)  "  hung  a  few  goats;  one  of  them  danced  and  scratch- 
"  ed  an  ear  with  its  hind  foot,  in  a  place  where  I  would 
*'  not  have  stood  stock-still,  for  all  beneath  the  moon."  It 
is  by  such  unexpected  incidents  as  this,  that  the  attention 
is  forcibly  roused  to  the  secret  workings  of  thought;  but 
something  of  the  same  kind  takes  place  on  almost  every 
occasion,  when  Altitude  produces  the  emotion  of  Subli- 
mity. In  general,  whoever  examines  the  play  of  his  ima- 
gination, while  his  eye  is  employed  either  in  looking  up 
to  a  lofty  eminence,  or  in  looking  down  from  it,  will  find 
it  continually  shifting  the  direction  of  its  movements; — 
"  glancing"  (as  the  poet  expresses  it)  "  from  heaven  to 
"  earth,  from  earth  to  heaven." 

Of  this  mental  process  we  are  more  peculiarly  consci- 
ous in  reading  the  descriptions  of  poetry: — 


2Y 


354  ON  THE  SUBLIME.  t^ssay  II. 

"  On  a  rock,  whose  haughty  brow 

"  Froiviis  o'er  old  Conway's  foaming  flood, 

"  Robed  in  the  sable  garb  of  woe, 

"  With  haggard  eye,  the  poet  stood. 

"  Loose  his  beard  and  hoary  hair 

"  Streamed  like  a  meteor  to  the  troubled  air. 

Of  these  lines,  the  two  first  present  a  picture  which  the 
imagination  naturally  views  from  below:  the  rest  trans- 
port us  to  the  immediate  neighbourhood  of  the  bard,  by 
the  minuteness  of  the  delineation. 

As  an  obvious  consequence  of  this  rapidity  of  thought, 
it  may  be  worth  while  here  to  remark,  that  the  concep- 
tions of  the  Painter,  which  are  necessarily  limited,  not 
only  to  one  momentary  glimpse  of  a  passing  object,  but 
to  one  precise  and  unchangeable  point  of  sight,  cannot 
possibly  give  expression  to  those  ideal  creations,  the 
charm  of  which  depends,  in  a  great  degree,  on  their  quick 
and  varied  succession;  and  on  the  ubiquity  (if  I  may  be 
allowed  the  phrase)  of  the  Poet's  eye.  No  better  illustra- 
tion of  this  can  be  produced  than  the  verses  just  quoted, 
compared  with  the  repeated  attempts  which  have  been 
made  to  represent  their  subject  on  canvas.  Of  the  vanity 
of  these  attempts  it  is  sufficient  to  say,  that,  while  the 
painter  has  but  one  point  of  sight,  the  poet,  from  the  na- 
ture of  his  art,  has  been  enabled,  in  this  instance,  to  avail 
himself  of  twOy  without  impairing,  in  the  least,  the  effect 
of  his  description,  by  this  sudden  and  unobserved  shift- 
ing of  the  scenery.* 

*  I  cannot  help  thinking  that  Gray,  while  he  professes  to  convey 
a  different  sentiment,  has  betrayed  a  secret  consciousness  of  the  un- 
rivalled powers  which  poetry  derives  from  this  latitude  in  tlie  man- 


I 


Chap.  I.]  ON  THE  SUBLIME.  355 

In  consequence  of  the  play  of  imagination  now  de- 
scribed, added  to  the  influence  of  associations  formerly 
remarked,  it  is  easily  conceivable  in  what  manner  Height 
and  Depth,  though  precisely  opposite  to  each  other  in 
their  physical  properties,  should  so  easily  accord  together 
in  the  pictures  which  imagination  forms;  and  should  even, 
in  many  cases,  be  almost  identified  in  the  emotions  which 
they  produce. 

Nor  will  there  appear  any  thing  in  this  doctrine  sa- 
vouring  of  paradox,  or  of  an  undue  spirit  of  theory,  in 
the  judgment  of  those  who  recollect,  that,  although  the 
humour  of  Swift  and  of  Arbuthnot  has  accustomed  us  to 
state  the  TTOS  and  the  BAGOS  as  standing  in  direct  op- 
position to  each  other,  yet,  according  to  the  phraseology 
of  Longinus,  the  oldest  writer  on  the  subject  now  extant, 
the  opposite  to  the  sublime  is  not  the  profound,  but  the 
humble^  the  low,  or  Xht  puerile.^  In  one  very  remarkable 

agement  of  her  machinery,  m  his  splendid  but  exaggerated  panegyric 
on  the  designs  with  which  Mr.  Bentley  decorated  one  of  the  editions 
of  his  book.  The  circumstances  he  has  pitched  on  as  characteristical 
of  the  genius  of  that  artist,  are  certainly  those  in  which  the  preroga- 
tives of  poetry  are  the  most  incontestable. 

"  In  silent  gaze,  the  tuneful  choir  among, 
"  Half  pleased,  half  blushing,  let  the  muse  admire, 

"  While  Bentley  leads  her  sister  art  along, 
*'  And  bids  the  pencil  answer  to  the  lyre. 

**  See,  in  their  course,  each  transitory  thought, 

"  Fixed  by  his  touch,  a  lasting  essence  take; 
**  Each  dream,  in  Jcmcy's  airy  colouring  wrought, 

"  To  local  symmetry  and  life  awake. 

*  T«  Sf  fAHf*Kicu2ii  ecvTiK^v  uTrtvxvriev  ran  (jLtyt^iai,  8cC.  See.  Sect.  3. 

When  Pope  attempted  to  introduce  the  image  of  the  profound 
into  poetry,  he  felt  himself  reduced  to  the  necessity,  instead  of  re- 
presenting his  dunces  as  exerting  themselves  to  dive  to  the  bottom 


356  <JX  THE  SUBLIME.  [Essay  II, 

passage,  which  has  puzzled  several  of  his  commentators 
not  a  little,  v^^o?  and  ^xB-og,  instead  of  being  stated  in 
contrast  with  each  other,  seem  to  be  particularized  as 
two  things  comprehended  under  some  one  common  ge- 
7}us,  corresponding  to  that  expressed  by  the  word  altitiido 
in  Latin.  'H^<v  Si  iKiTvo  iiocTro^yinov  ev  a^^vi,  n  gcrrjv  Jvj'Sif  t*? 
Y  ^xB'n?  nx^y,.  Smith,  in  his  English  version,  omits  the 
second  of  these  words  entirely;  acknowledging  that  he 
could  not  make  sense  of  the  passage  as  it  now  stands;  and 
intimating  his  own  approbation  of  a  conjectural  emenda- 
tion of  Dr.  Tonstal's,  who  proposed  (very  absurdly,  in 
my  opinion),  to  substitute  TrocB-og  for  (iocB-og.  Pearce,  on 
the  other  hand,  translates  v^og  v\  (iocB-og  sublimitas  sive 
altitudo;  plainly  considering  the  word  /3at9-of  as  intended 
by  the  aiUhor,  in  conjunction  wuth  v^^og^  to  complete  that 
idea  which  the  Greek  language  did  not  enable  him  to 
convey  more  concisely.  As  Pearce's  translation  is,  in  this 
instance,  adopted,  without  the  slightest  discussion  or  ex- 
planation, by  the  very  acute  and  learned  Toup,  in  his 
edition  of  Longinus,  it  may  be  considered  as  also  sanc- 
tioned by  the  high  authority  of  his  name.* 


of  the  ocean,  to  plunge  them,  one  after  another,  into  the  dirt  of  Fleet- 
ditch: — 

"  The  king  of  dikes!  tlian  whom  no  sluice  of  mud 
"  With  deeper  sable  blots  the  silver  flood." 

»  »  • 

"  Next  Smedley  div'd:  slow  circles  dimpled  o'er 
"  The  quaking  mud,  that  clos'd  and  op'd  no  more." 

*  *  * 

"Then  Hill  essay'd:  scarce  vanish'd  out  of  sight, 
"  He  buoys  up  instant,  and  returns  to  liglit: 
"  He  bears  no  token  of  the  sable  streams, 
"  And  mounts  aloft  among  the  swans  of  Thames." 


*  Note  (B  b). 


Chap.  I.]  ON  THE  SUBLIME.  357 

The  stress  which  the  authors  of  Martinus  Scrihlerus 
have  laid  upon  Sublimity,  in  the  literal  sense  of  the  word, 
together  with  the  ludicrous  parallel  which  they  have  so 
happily  kept  up  between  the  art  of  rising,  and  the  art  of 
sinking,  has  probably  had  no  inconsiderable  effect  in  di-" 
verting  the  graver  critics  who  have  since  appeared,  from 
an  accurate  examination  of  those  obvious  analogies  and 
natural  associations,  which  can  alone  explain  some  of  the 
most  perplexing  difficulties  connected  with  the  object  of 
our  present  inquiry.* 

*  "  The  Sublime  of  nalure  is  the  sky,  the  sun,  moon,  stars,  8cc. 
"  The  profound  of  nature  is  gold,  peai'ls,  precious  stones,  and  the 
"  treasures  of  the  deep,  which  are  inestimable  as  unknown.  But  all 
"that  lies  between  these,  as  corn,  flowers,  fruits,  animals,  and  things 
"  for  the  mere  use  of  man,  are  of  mean  price,  and  so  common  as  not 
"  to  be  greatly  esteemed  by  the  curious." 

Art  of  Sinking  in  Poetry,  chap.  vi. 


358  »N  THE  SUBLIME.  [Essay  II. 


CHAPTER  SECOND. 

GENERALIZATIONS  OF   THE    WORD    SUBLIMITY,  IN   CONSEQUENCE   OF 
THE  INFLUENCE  OF  RELIGIOUS  ASSOCIATIONS. 

ijESIDE  the  circumstances  already  mentioned,  a  variety 
of  others  conspire  to  distinguish  Subhmity  or  Ahitude 
from  all  the  other  directions  in  which  space  is  extended; 
and  which,  of  consequence,  conspire  to  invite  the  imagi- 
nation, on  a  correspondent  variety  of  occasions,  into  one 
common  track.  The  idea  of  Sublimity  which  is,  in  itself, 
so  grateful  and  so  flattering  to  the  mind,  becomes  thus  a 
common  basis  of  a  great  multitude  of  collateral  associa- 
tions; establishing  universally,  wherever  men  are  to  be 
found,  an  affinity  or  harmony  among  the  different  things 
presented  simultaneously  to  the  thoughts;  an  affinity, 
which  a  man  of  good  taste  never  fails  to  recognize,  al- 
though he  may  labour  in  vain  to  trace  any  metaphysical 
principle  of  connection.  It  is  in  this  way  I  would  account 
for  the  application  of  the  word  Sublimity  to  most,  if  not 
to  all  the  different  qualities  enumerated  by  Mr.  Burke,  as 
its  constituent  elements;  instead  of  attempting  to  detect 
in  these  qualities  some  common  circumstance,  or  circum- 
stances, enabling  them  to  produce  similar  effects.  In  con- 
firmation of  this  remark,  1  shall  point  out,  very  briefly,  a 
few  of  the  natural  associations  attached  to  the  idea  of 
what  is  physically  or  literally  Sublime,  without  paying 
much  attention  to  the  order  in  which  I  am  to  arrange 
them. 


Chap.  II.3  ON  THE  SUBLIME.  359 

It  will  contribute  greatly  to  assist  my  readers  in  fol- 
lowing me  through  this  argument,  always  to  bear  in  mind, 
that  the  observations  which  I  am  to  offer  neither  imply 
any  dissent,  on  my  part,  from  the  critical  decisions  of 
former  writers,  nor  tend  to  weaken,  in  the  smallest  de- 
gree, the  authority  of  their  precepts,  so  far  as  they  arc 
founded  on  a  just  induction  of  particulars.  A  universal 
association  furnishes  a  basis  of  practice,  as  solid  and  as 
independent  of  the  caprice  of  fashion  as  a  metaphysical 
affinity  or  relation;  and  the  investigation  of  the  former  is 
a  legitimate  object  of  philosophical  curiosity  no  less  than 
the  latter.  In  the  present  instance,  I  am  disposed  to  as- 
sent to  most  of  the  critical  conclusions  adopted  both  by 
Mr.  Burke  and  by  Mr.  Price;  and  were  the  case  otherwise, 
I  should  be  cautious  in  opposing  my  own  judgment  to 
theirs,  on  questions  so  foreign  to  my  ordinary  pursuits, 
how  freely  soever  I  may  have  presumed  to  canvass  the 
opinions  which  they  have  proposed  on  some  other  points 
of  a  more  speculative  and  abstract  nature. 

Of  all  the  associations  attached  to  the  idea  of  Sublimity, 
the  most  impressive  are  those  arising  from  the  tendency 
which  the  religious  sentiments  of  men,  in  every  age  and 
country,  have  had  to  carry  their  thoughts  upwards  towards 
the  objects  of  their  worship.  To  what  this  tendency  is  ow- 
ing, I  must  not  at  present  stop  to  inquire.  It  is  sufficient 
for  my  purpose,  if  it  be  granted,  (and  this  is  a  fact  about 
which  there  cannot  well  be  any  dispute)  that  it  is  the  re- 
sult of  circumstances  common  to  all  the  various  condi- 
tions of  mankind.  In  some  cases,  the  heavens  have  been 
conceived  to  be  the  dwelling-place  of  the  gods;  in  others, 
the  sun,  moon,  and  other  heavenly  bodies,  have  them- 


360  ON  THE  SUBLIME.  [Essay  IT. 

selves  been  deified;  but,  in  all  cases,  without  exception, 
men  have  conceived  their  fortunes  to  depend  on  causes 
operating  from  above.  Hence  those  apprehensions  which, 
in  all  ages,  they  have  been  so  apt  to  entertain,  of  the  in- 
fluence of  the  Stars  on  human  afiairs.  Hence,  too,  the  as- 
trological meaning  of  the  word  ascenclafif,  together  with 
its  metaphorical  application  to  denote  the  moral  influence 
which  one  Mind  may  acquire  over  another.*  The  lan- 
guage of  scripture  is  exactly  consonant  to  these  natural 
associations.  "  If  I  beheld  the  Sun  when  it  shined,  or  the 
''  Moon  walking  in  brightness,  and  my  heart  hath  been 
"  secretly  enticed,  or  my  mouth  hath  kissed  my  hand, 
"  this  also  were  an  iniquity  to  be  punished  by  the  Judge, 
*'  for  I  should  have  denied  the  God   that  is  above." 

"I  AM    THE    HIGH    AND    THE   LOFTY   OnE,    WHO    IN- 

*'  HABITETH   ETERNITY." '*  As   THE   HEAVENS    ARE 

"  HIGH  ABOVE  THE  EARTH,  SO  ARE  MY  THOUGHTS 
"  ABOVE  YOUR  THOUGHTS,  AND  MY  WAYS  ABOVE 
''  YOUR   WAYS." 

*  In  the  following  line  of  Ennius,  Jujiiier  and  the  Starry  Sublime 
are  used  as  synonymous  expressions: 

"  Aspice  hoc  sublime  candens,  quem  invocant  omnes  yovenu" 

It  is  observed  by  Sir  William  Jones,  that  "  the  Jupitkr  or  Dies- 
"piteh,  here  mentioned  by  Ennius,  is  the  Indian  God  of  the  visible 
"*  heavens,  called  Indra,  or  the  A7«^,  and  Divespiter,  or  Lord  of 
*•  the  Sky;  and  that  most  of  his  epithets  in  Sanscrit  are  the  same  with 

•'  those   of  the    Etviian  Jove. His  weapon  is  the   thunderbolt; 

*•  he  is  the  regent  of  winds  and  showers;  and  though  the  East  is 
''  peculiarly  under  his  care,  yet  his  Olympus  is  Aferu,  or  the  North 
"pole,  allegorically  represented  as  a  mountain  of  gold  and  gems." — 
(Dissertation  on  the  Gods  of  Greece,  Italy,  and  India.) 

The  same  natural  association  has  evidently  suggested  the  tower- 
ing forms  so  common  in  edifices  consecrated  to  the  memory  of  the 

2 


ehap.n.]  ON  THE  SUBLIME.  361 

How  closely  the  literal  and  the  religious  Sublime  were 
associated  together  in  the  mind  of  Milton  (whose  taste 
seems  to  have  been  formed  chiefly  on  the  study  of  the 
poetical  parts  of  the  sacred  writings)  appears  from  num- 
berless passages  in  the  Paradise  Lost. 

"  Now  had  th'  almighty  Father  from  above, 

"From  the  pure  empyrean  where  he  sits, 

"  High  throned  above  all  height,  bent  down  his  eye.'^ 

In  some  cases,  it  may  perhaps  be  doubted,  whether 
Milton  has  not  forced  on  the  mind  the  image  of  literal 
height,  somewhat  more  strongly  than  accords  perfectly 
with  the  overwhelming  sublimity  which  his  subject  de- 
rives from  so  many  other  sources.  At  the  same  time,  who 
would  venture  to  touch,  with  a  profane  hand,  the  follow- 
ing verses? 

"  So  even  and  morn  accomplish'd  the  sixth  day. 
"  Yet  not  till  the  Creator  from  his  work 
"  Desisting,  though  unwearied,  u^i  returned, 
"  Ufi  to  the  heaven  of  heavens,  his  high  abode, 
«  Thence  to  behold  this  new  created  world." 

"  Up.  he  rode 
"  Followed  with  acclamation,  and  the  sound 
"  Symphonic  us  of  ten  thousand  harps,  that  tuned 
"  Angelic  harmony;  the  earth,  the  air, 
"  Resounding,  (thou  rememberest,  for  thou  heard'st) 


dead,  or  to  the  ceremonies  of  religious  worship; — the  forms  for  exam- 
ple, of  the  pyramid;  of  the  obelisk;  of  the  column;  and  of  the  spires 
appropriated  to  our  churches  in  this  part  of  the  world. 

"  The  village  cliurch,  among-  the  trees, 

''  Shall  point,  with  taper  spire,  to  Heaven." — Rogers. 

2Z 


362  ON  THE  SUBLIME.  [EbSfty  II. 

<*  The  heavens  and  all  the  consielUitions  rung, 
"  The  planets  in  their  stations  listening  stood, 
"  While  the  bright  pomp  ascended  jubilant." 

Is  it  not  probable  that  the  impression,  produced  by  this 
association,  strong  as  it  still  is,  was  yet  stronger  in  ancient 
times?  The  discovery  of  the  earth's  sphericity,  and  of 
the  general  theory  of  gravitation,  has  taught  us,  that  the 
words  above  and  below  have  only  a  relative  import.  The 
wc^wra/ association  cannot  fiul  to  be  more  or  less  counter-' 
acted  in  every  understanding  to  which  this  doctrine  is 
familiarized;  and,  although  it  may  not  be  so  far  weakened 
as  to  destroy  altogether  the  effect  of  poetical  descriptions 
proceeding  on  popular  phraseology,  the  effect  must  neces- 
sarily be  very  inferior  to  what  it  was  in  ages,  when  the 
notions  of  the  wise  concerning  the  local  residence  of  the 
Gods  were  precisely  the  same  with  those  of  the  vulgar. 
We  may  trace  their  powerful  influence  on  the  philosophy 
of  Plato,  in  some  of  his  Dialogues;  and  he  is  deeply  in- 
debted to  them  for  that  strain  of  sublimity  which  charac- 
terizes those  parts  of  his  writings  which  have  more  pe- 
culiarly excited  the  enthusiasm  of  his  followers. 

The  conclusions  of  modern  science  leave  the  imagina- 
tion at  equal  liberty  to  shoot,  in  all  directions,  through 
the  immensity  of  space;  suggesting  undoubtedly,  to  a 
philosophical  mind,  the  most  grand  and  magnificent  of 
all  conceptions;  but  a  conception  not  nearly  so  well  adap- 
ted to  the  pictures  of  poetry,  as  the  popular  illusion 
which  places  heaven  exactly  over  our  heads.  Of  the  truth 
of  this  last  remark  no  other  proof  is  necessary  than  the 
doctrine  of  the  Antipodes,  which,  when  alluded  to  in 
poetical  description,  produces  an  effect  much  less  akin 
to  the  sublime  than  to  the  ludicrous. 


Chap.  H.]  ON  THE  SUBLIME.  363 

Hence  an  obvious  account  of  the  connection  between 
the  ideas  of  Sublimity  and  of  Power.  The  Heavens  wc 
conceive  to  be  the  abode  of  the  Almighty;  and  when  we 
implore  the  protection  of  his  omnipotent  arm,  or  express 
our  resignation  to  his  irresistible  decrees,  by  an  involun- 
tary movement,  we  lift  our  eyes  upwards.^ 

As  of  all  the  attributes  of  God,  Omnipotence  is  the 
most  impressive  in  its  effects  upon  the  imagination,  so 
the  sublimest  of  all  descriptions  are  those  which  turn  on 
the  infinite  Power  manifested  in  the  fabric  of  the  uni- 
verse;— in  the  magnitudes,  (more  especially)  the  dis- 
tances, and  the  vtlocitits  of  the  heavenly  bodieb;  and  in 
the  innumerable  systems  of  worlds  which  he  has  called 
into  existence.  "  Let  there  he  lights  and  there  was  light ^''^ 
has  been  quoted  as  an  instance  of  sublime  writing  by 
almost  every  critic  since  the  time  of  Longinus;  and  its 
sublimity  arises  partly  from  the  divine  brevity  with  which 
it  expresses  the  instantaneous  effect  of  the  creative ^af; 
partly  from  the  religions  sentiment  which  it  identifies  with 
our  conception  of  the  moment,  when  the  earth  was  first 
"  visited  by  the  day-spring  from  on  high."  Milton  ap- 
pears to  have  felt  it  in  its  full  force,  from  the  exordium 
of  his  hymn: 

"  Hail,  holy  light!  offspring  of  heaven  first-born."t 

The  sublimity  of  Lucretius  will  be  found  to  depend 
chiefly  (even  in  those  passages  where  he  denies  the  inter- 

*  The  same  account  may  be  given  of  the  origin  of  various  other 
natural  signs,  expressive  of  religious  adoration;  (/lalmaa  ad  sidera 
tendcns^  Sec.  &c.)  and  of  some  ceremonies  which  have  obtained  very 
generally  over  the  world,  particularly  that  of  offering  up  incense. 

t  Note  (C  c). 


364  ON  THE  SUBLTME.  [Essay  H. 

ference  of  the  gods  in  the  government  of  the  world)  on 
the  lively  images  which  he  indirectly-  presents  to  his  rea- 
ders, of  the  Attributes  against  which  he  reasons.  In  these 
instances,  nothing  is  more  remarkable  tlian  the  skill  with 
which  he  counteracts  the  frigid  and  anti-poetical  spirit  of 
his  philosophical  system; — the  sublimest  descriptions  of 
Almighty  Power  sometimes  forming  a  part  of  his  argu- 
ment against  the  Divine  Omnipotence.  In  point  of  logical 
consistency,  indeed,  he  thus  sacrifices  every  thing;  but 
such  a  sacrifice  he  knew  to  be  essential  to  his  success  as 
a  poet. 

"  Nam  (proh  sancta  Deiim  tranquilla  pcctora  pace, 

"Quae  placidum  degunt  aevum,  vitamque  serenami) 

"Quis  regere  immensi  summam,  quis  habere  profundi 

"  Indu  manu  validas  potis  est  moderanter  habenas? 

"  Quis  pariter  coelos  omneis  convertere?  et  omneis 

"  Ignibus  setheriis  terras  suffire  feraceis? 

"  Omnibus  inque  locis  esse  omni  tempore  praesto? 

«  Nubibus  ut  tenebras  facial  ccElique  serena 

"  Concutiat  sonitu?  turn  fulmina  mittat,  ct  aedcs 

"  Ssepe  suas  disturbet,  et  in  deserta  recedcns 

"Saeviat  exercens  telum,  quod  saepe  nocenteis 

"  Praeterit,  exanimatque  indignos,  inque  merenteis?"* 

The  sublime  effect  of  rocks  and  of  cataracts;  of  huge 
ridges  of  mountains;  of  vast  and  gloomy  forests;  of  im- 
mense and  impetuous  rivers;  of  the  boundless  ocean; 
and,  in  general,  of  every  thing  which  forces  on  the  at- 
tention the  idea  of  Creative  Power,  is  owing,  in  part,! 

*  Lucret.  Lib.  2.  1092. 

1 1  say  in  fiart^  as  it  will  afterwards  appear  that  other  circumstances, 
of  a  very  different  sort,  conspire  to  the  same  end. 


Chap,  n.]  ON  THE  SUBLIME.  365 

to  the  irresistible  tendency  which  that  idea  has  to  raise 
the  thoughts  toward  Heaven. — The  influence  of  some  of 
these  spectacles,  in  awakening  religious  impressions,  is 
nobly  exemplified  in  Gray's  ode,  written  at  the  Grande 
Chartreuse;- — an  Alpine  scene  of  the  wildest  and  most 
awful  grandeur,  where  every  thing  appears  fresh  from  the 
hand  of  Omnipotence,  inspiring  a  sense  of  the  more  im- 
mediate presence  of  the  Divinity. 

"  Prxsejitiorem  et  consfiicimus  Deum 
"  Per  invias  rupes,  fera  per  juga, 
"  Clivosque  praeruptos,  sonantes 

"  Inter  aquas,  nemorumque  noctem; 
■    "  Quam  si  repostus  sub  trabe  citrea 
"  Fulgeret  auro,  et  Phidiaca  manu." 

The  same  very  simple  theory  appears  to  me  to  afford 
a  satisfactory  account  of  the  application  of  the  word 
Sublimity  to  Eternity,  to  Immensity,*  to  Omnipresence, 
to  Omniscience; — in  a  word,  to  all  the  various  qualities 
which  enter  into  our  conceptions  of  the  Divine  Attri- 
butes. As  my  object,  however,  in  this  essay,  is  not  to 
write  a  treatise  on  the  Sublime,  but  merely  to  suggest 
slight  hints  for  the  consideration  of  others,  I  shall  con- 
tent myself  with  remarking  farther,  under  this  head,  the 
influence  which  the  sacred  writings  must  have  had,  all 
over  the  Christian  world,  in  adding  solemnity  and  majesty 
to  these  natural  combinations.  If  the  effect  of  inere 
elevation  be  weakened  in  a  philosophical  mind,  by  the 
discoveries  of  modern  science,  all  the  adjuncts,  physical 
and  moral,  which  revelation  teaches  us  to  connect  with 

*  Note  (D  d). 


566  ON  THE  SUBLIME.  [EsMy  D. 

the  name  of  the  "  Most  High,"  have  gained  an  infinite 
accession  of  Sublimity. 

From  the  associations  thus  consecrated  in  scripture,  a 
plausible  explanation  might  be  deduced,  of  the  poetical 
effect  of  almost  all  the  qualities  which  Mr.  Burke,  and 
other  modern  critics,  have  enumerated  as  constituents  of 
the  Sublime;  but  it  is  gratifying  to  the  curiosity  to  push 
the  inquiry  farther,  by  shewing  the  deep  root  which  the 
85ame  associations  have  in  the  physical  and  moral  nature 
of  the  human  race;  and  the  tendency  which  even  the 
superstitious  creeds  of  ancient  times  had  to  confirm  their 
authority. 

In  some  respects,  indeed,  these  creeds  were  admirably 
fitted  for  the  purposes  of  poetry;  in  none  more  than  in 
strengthening  that  natural  association  between  the  ideas 
of  the  Sublime  and  of  the  Terrible,  which  Mr.  Burke 
has  so  ingeniously,  and  I  think  justly,  resolved  into  the 
connection  between  this  last  idea  and  that  of  Power.  The 
region  from  which  Superstition  draws  all  her  omens  and 
anticipations  of  futurity  lies  over  our  heads.  It  is  there 
she  observes  the  aspects  of  the  planets,  and  the  eclipses 
of  the  sun  and  moon;  or  watches  the  flight  of  birds,  and 
the  shifting  lights  about  the  pole.  This,  too,  is  the  region 
of  the  most  awful  and  alarming  meteorological  appear- 
ances,— "  vapours  and  clouds  and  storms;"  and  (what  is 
a  circumstance  of  peculiar  consequence  in  this  argument) 
of  t/umder,  which  has,  in  all  countries,  been  regarded  by 
the  multitude,  not  only  as  the  immediate  effect  of  super- 
natural interposition,  but  as  an  expression  of  displeasure 
from  above.  It  is  accordingly  from  this  very  phenomenon 
(as  Mr.  Burke  has  remarked)  that  the  word  astonishment , 


Chap.  II- J  ON  THE  SUBLIME.  367 

which  expresses  the  strongest  emotion  produced  by  the 
Sublime,  is  borrowed. 

If  the  former  observations  be  just,  instead  of  consider- 
ing, with  Mr.  Burke,  Terror  as  the  ruling  principle  of 
the  religious  sublime^  it  would  be  nearer  the  truth  to  say, 
that  the  Terrible  derives  whatever  character  of  Sublimitv 
belongs  to  it  from  religious  associations.  The  application 
of  the  epithet  Sublime  to  these^  has,  I  trust,  been  already 
sufficiently  accounted  for. 

It  may  not  be  improper  to  add,  with  respect  to  the 
awful  phenomenon  of  thunder,  that  the  intimate  combina- 
tion between  its  impression  on  the  ear,  and  those  appear- 
ances in  the  heavens  which  are  regarded  as  its  signs  or 
forerunners,  must  not  only  cooperate  with  the  circum- 
stances  mentioned  by  Mr.  Burke,  in  imparting  to  Dark- 
ness the  character  of  the  Terrible,  but  must  strengthen, 
by  a  process  still  more  direct,  the  connection  between  the 
ideas  of  Darkness  and  of  mere  Elevation. 

"  Fulmina  gigni  de  crassis,  altequc  putandum  est 

"  Nubibus  extructis:  nam  coelo  nulla  sereno, 

"  Nee  leviter  densis  mittuniur  nubibus  unquam."* 

"  Eripiunt  subito  nubes  coelumque  diemque 
"  Teucrorum  ex  oculis;  ponto  nox  incubat  atra: 
"  Intonuere  poli."t 

The  same  direction  is  naturally  given  to  the  fancy,  by 
the  Darkness  which  precedes  hurricanes;  and  also,  dur- 
ing an  eclipse  of  the  sun,  by  the  disastrous  twilight  shed 
on  half  the  nations.  Even  in  common  discourse,  as  well 

*  See  the  rest  of  this  passage,  Lucret.  Lib.  6, 
t  -Eneid.  Lib.  1. 


368  ON  THE  SUBLIME.  [Essay  II. 

as  in  poetry,  we  speak  of  the  Jail  of  night,  and  of  the  Jail 
of  evening. 

— — Ofuftt  3*  vptcvoB-iv  vu|.* 

"  Down  rushed  the  night." 

In  general,  fancy  refers  to  the  visible  heavens,  the  source 
of  Darkness  as  well  as  of  Light;  and  accordingly,  both  of 
these  (as  Mr.  Burke  has  remarked),  have  sometimes  an 
important  place  assigned  to  them,  in  sublime  descriptions. 
They  both,  indeed,  accord  and  harmonize  perfectly  with 
this  natural  group  of  associations; — abstracting  altogether 
from  the  powerful  aid  which  they  occasionally  contribute 
in  strengthening  the  other  impressions  connected  with  the 
Terrible. 

And  here,  I  must  beg  leave  to  turn  the  attention  of  my 
readers,  for  a  moment,  to  the  additional  effect  whichthese 
conspiring  associations  (more  particularly  those  arising 
from .  religious  impressions)  lend  to  every  object  which 
we  consider  as  Sublime,  in  the  literal  sense  of  that  word. 
I  before  took  notice  of  the  sublime  flight  of  the  Eagle; 
but  what  an  accession  of  poetical  sublimity  has  the  Eagle 
derived  from  the  attributes  ascribed  to  him  in  ancient 
mythology,  as  the  sovereign  of  all  the  other  inhabitants  of 
the  air;  as  the  companion  and  favourite  of  Jupiter;  and  as 
the  bearer  of  his  armour  in  the  war  against  the  giants!  In 
that  celebrated  passage  of  Pindar,  (so  nobly  imitated  by 
Gray  and  by  Akenside)  where  he  describes  the  power  of 
music  in  soothing  the  angry  passions  of  the  gods;  the 
abruptness  of  the  transition  from  the  thunderbolt  to  the 
eagle;  and  the  picturesque  minuteness  of  the  subsequent 

*  Odyss.  Lib.  5.  294. 


Chap.  n.J  OX  THE  SUBLIME.  369 

lines,  sufficiently  shew  what  a  rank  was  occupied  by  this 
bird  in  the  warm  imagination  of  Grecian  idolatry.* — 
Of  the  two  English  poets,  just  mentioned,  it  is  observa- 
ble that  the  former  has  made  no  farther  reference  to  Jupi- 
ter, than  as  carrying  "  the  feathered  king  on  his  scepter'd 
"  hand;"  but  in  order  to  compensate  for  this  omission, 
he  has  contrived,  in  his  picture  of  the  eagle's  sleep,  by 
the  magical  charm  of  figurative  language,  to  suggest, 
indirectly,  the  very  same  sublime  image  with  which  the 
description  of  Pindar  commences: 

"  Quench'd  in  dark  clouds  of  slumber  lie, 

"  The  terror  of  his  beak,  and  lightning  of  his  eye."t 

After  these  remarks,  it  will  not  appear  surprising  that 

*  K«<  Tav  cti)(,f^xTciv  Kifocvvav  ff^ivvvug 

^ii  uvcc  FtcxTTai  A/«5  «<!T«5}  &C.  Sec. 

t  May  I  be  permitted  to  add,  that  in  Akenside's  imitation,  as  well  as 
in  the  original,  the  reader  is  prepared  for  the  short  episode  of  the 
Eagle,  (which  in  all  the  three  descriptions  is  unquestionably  the  most 
pi'ominent  feature)  by  the  previous  allusion  to  the  x.ifixvvov  aivecov  vw 
eoii — and  to  suggest  my  doubts,  whether  in  Gray,  the  transition  to 
this  picture  from  T/iracia's  Hills  and  the  Loirl  of  War,  be  not  a  little 
too  violent,  even  for  lyric  poetry. — The  English  reader  may  judge  of 
this,  from  the  verses  of  Akenside. 

"  Those  lofty  strings 
"  That  charm  the  mind  of  gods;  that  fill  the  courts 
"  Of  wide  Olympus  with  oblivion  sweet 
"  Of  evils,  with  immortal  rest  from  cares, 
"  Assuage  the  terrors  of  the  throne  of  Jove; 
"  And  quench  the  foi-midable  thunderbolt 
"  Of  unrelenting  fire.  With  slackeu'd  wings, 
"  While  now  the  solemn  concert  breathes  around, 
•'  Incumbent  o'er  the  sceptre  of  his  lord, 
"  Sleeps  the  stern  eagle;  by  the  number'd  notes 
"  Possess'd,  and  satiate  with  the  melting  tone: 
"  Sovereign  of  birds.^ 

3  A 


3  70  ON  THE  SUBLIME.  [tssay  H. 

the  same  language  should  be  transferred  from  the  objects 
of  religious  worship,  to  whatever  is  calculated  to  excite  the 
analogous,  though  comparatively  weak  sentiments  of  ad- 
miration and  of  wonder.  The  word  suspicere  (to  look  up) 
is  only  one  example  out  of  many  which  might  be  men- 
tioned. Cicero  has  furnished  us  with  instances  of  its  ap- 
plication, both  to  the  religious  sentiment,  and  to  the  enthu- 
siastic admiration  with  which  we  regard  some  of  the  ob- 
jtot-i  of  taste.  "  Esse  prsestantem  aliquam  aeternamque  na- 
"  turam,  et  eam  suspiciendam  admirandamque  hominum 
"  generi,  pulchritudo  mundi  ordoque  rerum  coelestium 
*'  cogit  confiteri."* — "  Eloquentiam,  quam  suspicerent 
"  omnes,  quam  admirarentur,"  Sccf  On  the  latter  occa- 
sion, as  well  as  on  the  former,  the  words  suspicio  and 
admiror  are  coupled  together,  in  order  to  convey  more 
forcibly  one  single  idea. 

On  this  particular  view  of  the  sublime,  considered  ii} 
connection  with  religious  impressions,  I  have  only  to  take 
notice  farther,  of  a  remarkable  coincidence  between  their 
influence  and  that  of  the  feelings  excited  by  literal  Sub- 
limity, in  assimilating  the  poetical  effects  of  the  two  op- 
posite dimensions  of  Depth  and  of  Height.  In  the  case  of 
literal  Sublimity,  I  have  already  endeavoured  to  account 
for  this  assimilation.  In  that  now  before  us,  it  seems  to  ,' 
be  the  obvious  result  of  those  conceptions,  so  natural  to 
the  human  mind,  which  have  universally  suggested  a 
separation  of  the  invisible  world  into  two  distinct  regionsjj 
the  one  situated  at  an  immense  distance  above  the  earth'is 
surface;  the  other  at  a  corresponding  distance  below;- 

*  De  Divinat.  Lib.  2.  +  Orat.  28. 


Chap.  11]  ON  THE  SUBLIME.  371 

the  one  a  blissful  and  glorious  abode,  to  which  virtue  is 
taught  to  aspire  as  its  final  reward;  the  other  inhabited  by 
beings  in  a  state  of  punishment  and  of  degradation.  The 
powers  to  whom  the  infliction  of  this  punishment  is 
committed,  cannot  fail  to  be  invested  by  the  fancy  as  the 
ministers  and  executioners  of  divine  justice,  with  some 
of  the  attributes  which  are  characteristical  of  the  Sublime; 
and  this  association  it  seems  to  have  been  a  great  object 
of  the  heathen  mythology  to  strengthen,  as  much  as  pos- 
sible, by  the  fabulous  accounts  of  the  alliances  between 
the  celestial  and  the  infernal  deities;  and  by  other  fictions 
of  a  similar  tendency.  Pluto  was  the  son  of  Saturn,  and 
the  brather  of  Jupiter;  Proserpine,  the  daughter  of  Jupi- 
ter and  of  Ceres;  and  even  the  river  Styx  was  conse- 
crated into  a  divinity,  held  in  veneration  and  dread  by  all 
the  Gods. 

The  language  of  the  inspired  writings  is,  on  this  as  on 
other  occasions,  beautifully  accommodated  to  the  irresist- 
ible impressions  of  nature;  availing  itself  of  such  popular 
and  familiar  words  as  upwards  and  downwards,  above  and 
below,  in  condescension  to  the  frailty  of  the  human  mind, 
governed  so  much  by  sense  and  imagination,  and  so  little  by 
the  abstractions  of  philosophy.  Hence  the  expression  of 
fallen  Angels,  which,  by  recalling  to  us  the  eminence  from 
which  they  fell,  communicates,  in  a  single  word,  a  cha- 
racter of  Sublimity  to  the  bottomless  abyss:  "  How  art 
"  thou  fallen  from  heaven,  O  Lucifer,  son  of  the  morn- 
*'  ing!"  The  Supreme  Being  is  himself  represented  as 
filling  hell  with  his  presence;  while  the  throne  where  he 
manifests  his  glory  is  conceived  to  be  placed  on  high: 


372  ON  THE  SUBLIME.  [Eisayll. 

**  If  I  ascend  into  heaven,  thou  art  there;  if  I  make  my 
"  bed  in  hell,  thou  art  there  also." 

To  these  asspciations.  Darkness,  Power,  Terror,  Eter- 
nity, and  various  other  aduncts  of  Sublimity,  lend  their 
aid  in  a  manner  too  palpable  to  admit  of  any  comment. 


Chap.in.3  ON  THE  SUBLIME.  373 


CHAPTER  THIRD. 

GENERALIZATIONS  OF  SUBLIMITY  IN  CONSEqUENCE  OF  ASSOCIATIONS 
RESVLTING  FROM  THE  PHENOMENA  OF  GRAVITATION.  AND  FROM 
THE  OTHER  PHYSICAL  ARRANGEMENTS  WITH  WHICH  OUR  SENSES 
ARE  CONVERSANT. 

W  HEN  we  confine  our  views  to  the  earth's  surface,  a 
variety  of  additional  causes  conspire,  with  those  already 
suggested,  to  strengthen  the  association  between  Elevated 
Position  and  the  ideas  of  Power,  or  of  the  Terrible.  I 
shall  only  mention  the  security  it  affords  against  a  hos- 
tile attack,  and  the  advantage  it  yields  in  the  use  of  mis- 
sile weapons;  two  circumstances  which  give  an  expressive 
propriety  to  the  epithet  commanding^  as  employed  in  the 
language  of  Fortification.  ' 

In  other  cases,  elevated  objects  excite  emotions  still 
more  closely  allied  to  admiration  and  to  awe,  in  conse- 
quence of  our  experience  of  the  effect  of  heavy  bodies 
falling  downwards  from  a  great  height.  Masses  of  water, 
in  the  form  of  a  mountain-torrent,  or  of  a  cataract,  pre- 
sent to  us  one  of  the  most  impressive  images  of  irresisti- 
ble impetuosity  which  terrestrial  phenomena  afford;  and 
accordingly  have  an  effect,  both  on  the  eye  and  on  the  ear, 
of  peculiar  Sublimity,  of  which  poets  and  orators  have 
often  availed  themselves  to  typify  the  overwhelming  pow- 
ers of  their  respective  arts. 


374  ON  THE  SUBLIME.  [E^ay  11- 

<^  Monte  decurrens  velut  amnis,  imbres 
"  Queni  super  notas  aliiere  ripas, 
"  Fervet,  immensusque  ruit  profundo 
"  Pindarus  ore." 

"  Now  the  rich  stream  of  musir  winds  along, 

"  Deep,  majestic,  smooth,  and  sliontj; 

"  Through  verdant  vales,  and  Ceres'  golden  reign; 

"  Now  rolling  down  the  steep  amain, 

"  Headlong  impetuous  see  it  pour, 

"  The  rocks  and  nodding  groves  rebellow  to  the  roar." 

"  At  ille"  (says  Quinctilian,  speaking  of  the  different 
kinds  of  eloquence)  "  qui  saxa  devolvat,  et  pontem  in- 
*'  dignetur,  et  ripas  sibi  faciat,  multus  et  torrens,  judicem 
"  vel  nitcntem  contra  feret,  cogetque  ire  qua  rapit."* 

The  tendency  of  these  circumstances,  in  conjunction 
with  others  before  mentioned,  to  associate  a  sublime  effect 
with  motion  downwards y  is  too  obvious  to  require  any  il- 
lustration; and  accordingly,  it  opens  a  rich  field  of  allusion 
to  poets,  wherever  an  idea  is  to  be  conveyed  of  mighty 
force  and  power;  or  where  emotions  are  to  be  produced, 
allied  to  terror.  Motion  upwards^  on  the  other  hand,  and 
perhaps  still  more,  whatever  is  able  to  oppose  an  adequate 
resistance  to  a  superincumbent  weight,  or  to  a  descen- 
ding shock,  furnishes,  for  reasons  hereafter  to  be  explain- 
ed, the  most  appropriate  images  subservient  to  that  mo- 
dification of  the  Sublime,  which  arises  from  a  strong  ex- 
pression of  mental  energy. 

In  looking  up  to  the  vaulted  roof  of  a  Gothic  Cathedral, 
our  feelings  differ,  in  one  remarkable  circumstance,  from 

*  Quinct.  L.  12,  c.  x. 


(aftip.III.O  Oif  THE  SUBLIME.  375 

those  excited  by  torrents  and  cataracts;  that  whereas,  in 
the  latter  instances,  we  see  the  momentum  of  falling 
masses  actually  exhibited  to  our  senses;  in  the  former, 
we  see  the  triumph  of  human  art,  in  rendering  the  law 
of  gravitation  subservient  to  the  suspension  of  its  own 
ordinary  effects: 

"  The  ponderous  roof, 


«  By  its  own  weight  made  stedfast  and  immoveable." 

An  emotion  of  Wonder,  accordingly,  is  here  added  to 
that  resulting  from  the  Sublimity  of  Loftiness  and  of 
Power. — As  we  are  placed  too,  immediately  under  the 
incumbent  mass,  the  idea  of  the  Terrible  is  brought  home 
to  the  imagination  more  directly;  and  would,  in  fact,  to- 
tally overpower  our  faculties  with  the  expectation  of  our 
inevitable  and  instant  destruction,  were  it  not  for  the  ex- 
perimental proof  we  have  had  of  the  stability  of  similar 
edifioes.  It  is  this  natural  apprehension  of  impending 
danger,  checked  and  corrected  every  moment  by  a 
rational  conviction  of  our  security,  which  seems  to  pro- 
duce that  silent  and  pleasing  awe  which  we  experience 
on  entering  within  their  walls;  and  which  so  perfectly  ac- 
cords with  the  other  associations  awakened  by  the  sanctity 
of  the  place,  and  with  the  sublimity  of  the  Being  in 
whom  they  are  centered.* 

*  An  emotion  of  ivonder,  analogous  to  that  excited  by  the  vaulted 
roof  of  a  cathedral,  enters  deeply  into  the  pleasing  effect  produced  by 
a  majestic  arch  thrown  across  a  river  or  a  gulf.  That  it  does  not  de- 
pend merely  on  the  beauty  of  form,  or  upon  vastness  of  dimension, 
appears  clearly  from  the  comparative  meanness  of  an  iron  bridge, 
though  executed  on  a  far  greater  scale.  I  was  never  more  disap- 
pointed in  my  life  than  when  I  first  saw  the  bridge  at  Sunderland. 

In 


376  ON  THE  SUBLIME.  [Essay  11. 

The  effect  of  the  habits  of  thought  and  of  feeling  which 
have  been  just  described,  give  not  only  a  propriety  but 
a  beauty  to  epithets  expressive  of  the  Terrible,  even 
when  applied  to  the  great  elevation  of  things  from  which 
no  danger  can,  for  a  moment,  be  conceived  to  be  pos- 
sible. 

« — Where  not  a  precipice  fronons  o'er  the  heath 
"  To  rouse  a  noble  horror  in  the  soul.'* 

"  Mark  how  the  dread  pantheon  stands 
"  Amid  the  domes  of  modern  hands: 
"  Amid  the  toys  of  idle  state, 
"  How  simply,  how  severely  great!" 

To  all  this  it  may  be  added,  that  the  momentum  of  fall- 
ing bodies  is  one  of  the  most  obvious  resources  of  which 
Man  avails  himself  for  increasing  his  physical  power,  in 
the  infancy  of  the  mechanical  arts.  Even  in  the  hostile 
exertions  made  with  the  rudest  weapons  of  offence,  such 
as  the  club  and  the  mace,  power  is  always  employedyrow 
above;  and  the  same  circumstance  of  superiority ^  in  the 
literal  sense  of  that  word,  is  considered  as  the  most  de- 
cisive mark  of  victory  in  still  closer  conflict.  The  idea 

In  the  following  rude  lines  of  Churchill,  which  Mr.  Tooke's  letter 
to  Junius  has  made  familiar  to  every  ear,  the  feelings  which  give  to 
the  stone  arch  its  peculiar  character  of  grandeur  are  painted  with 
equal  justness  and  spirit: 

•"  'Tis  the  last  key-stone 


"  That  makes  ihe  arch;  the  rest  tliat  there  were  put, 

"  Are  iiotliing'  till  tliat  comes  to  bind  and  sluit. 

"  Then  stands  it  a  triumphal  mark:  then  men 

"  Observe  the  strenj^lh,  tlie  hcipfht,  the  why  and  wlien 

"  It  was  erected;  and  still,  waikini^  under, 

"  Meet  some  new  matter  to  look  up  and  wonder." 

2 


Ghap.lIL]  ON  THE  SUBLIME.  377 

of  Power,  accordingly,  comes  naturally  to  be' associated 
with  the  quarter  from  which  it  can  alone  be  exerted  in 
the  most  advantageous  and  effectual  manner;  and  that  of 
weakness  with  prostration,  inferiority  and  submission. 

When  these  different  considerations  are  combined,  it 
will  not  appear  surprising,  that  the  ideas  of  Power  and  of 
High  Station,  should,  in  their  application  to  our  own 
species,  be  almost  identified;  insomuch  that,  in  using  this 
last  expression,  we  are  scarcely  conscious  of  speaking 
metaphorically.  A  similar  remark  may  be  extended  to 
the  following  phrases;  High  rank — High  birth — High- 
spirited — High-minded;  High-Priest — High-Churchman 
Serene  Highness — High  and  Mighty  Prince.  The  epithet 
Sublime,  when  applied  to  the  Ottoman  Court,  affords 
another  example  of  the  same  association.  Sir  William 
Temple's  comparison  of  the  subordination  and  gradations 
of  ranks  in  a  mixed  monarchy  to  a  Pyramid;  and  Mr. 
Burke's  celebrated  allusion  to  the  "  Corinthian  Capitals 
"  of  Society,"  are  but  expansions  and  illustrations  of  this 
proverbial  and  unsuspected  figure  of  speech. 

The  same  considerations  appear  to  me  to  throw  a  satis- 
factory light  on  that  intimate  connection  between  the 
ideas  of  Sublimity  and  of  Energy  which  Mr.  Knight 
has  fixed  on  as  the  fundamental  principle  of  his  theory. 
The  direction  in  which  the  energies  of  the  human  mind 
are  conceived  to  be  exerted,  will,  of  course,  be  in  oppo- 
sition to  that  of  \ht  powers  to  which  it  is  subjected;  of 
the  dangers  which  hang  over  it;  of  the  obstacles  which  it 
has  to  surmount  in  rising  to  distinction.  Hence  the  meta- 
phorical expressions  of  Tin  unbending  spirit;  oi  bearing  up 

3B 


378  ON  THE  SUBLIME  [Essay  IL 

against  thq  pressure  of  misfortune;  of  an  aspiring  or 
towering  ambition,  and  innumerable  others.  Hence,  too, 
an  additional  association,  strengthening  wonderfully  the 
analogy,  already  mentioned,  between  Sublimity  and  cerr 
tain  Moral  qualities;  qualities  which,  on  examination, 
will  be  found  to  be  chiefly  those  recommended  in  the 
Stoical  School;  implying  a  more  than  ordinary  energy  of 
mind,  or  of  what  the  French  call  Force  of  Character.  In 
truth,  Energy,  as  contradistinguished  from  Power,  is 
but  a  more  particular  and  modified  conception  of  the 
same  idea;  comprehending  the  cases  where  its  sensible 
effects  do  not  attract  observation;  but  where  ^ts  silent 
operation  is  measured  by  the  opposition  it  resists,  or  by 
the  weight  it  sustains.  The  brave  man,  accordingly,  was 
considered  by  the  Stoics  as  partaking  of  the  sublimity  of 
that  Almighty  Being  who  puts  him  to  the  trial;  and  whom 
they  conceived  as  witnessing,  with  pleasure,  the  erect 
and  undaunted  attitude  in  which  he  awaits  the  impending 
storin,  or  contemplates  the  ravages  which  it  has  spread 
around  him.  "  Non  video  quid  habeat  in  terris  Jupiter 
"  pulchrius,  quam  ut  spectet  Catonem,  jam  partibus  non 
"  semel  fractis,  stantem  nihilominus  inter  ruinas pnblicas 
"  rectumy 

It  is  this  image  of  mental  energy,  bearing  up  against 
the  terrors  of  overwhelming  Power,  which  gives  so  strong 
a  poetical  effect  to  the  description  of  Epicurus  in  Lucre- 
tius; and  also  to  the  character  of  Satan,  as  conceived  by 
Milton.  But  in  all  these  cases,  the  sublimity  of  Energy, 
when  carefully  analyzed,  will  be  found  to  be  merely  rela- 
tive; or,  if  I  may  use  the  expression,  to  be  only  a  reflec- 


Chap,  nr.3  ON  THE  SUBLIME.  379 

tion  from  the  sublimity  of  the  Power  to  which  it  is  op- 
posed.* 

It  will  readily  occur  as  an  objection  to  some  of  the 
foregoing  conclusions,  that  horizontal  extent^  as  well  as 
great  altitude^  is  an  element  of  the  Sublime.  Upon  the 
slightest  reflection,  however,  it  must  appear  obvious,  that 
this  extension  of  the  meaning  of  Sublimity  arises  entirely 
from  the  natural  association  between  elevated  position 
and  a  commanding  prospect  of  the  earth's  surface,  in  all 
directions.  As  the  most  palpable  measure  of  elevation  is 
the  extent  of  view  which  it  affords,  so,  on  the  other  hand, 
an  enlarged  horizon  recals  impressions  connected  with 
great  elevation.  The  plain  of  Yorkshire,  and  perhaps  still 
in  a  greater  degree,  Salisbury  plain,  produces  an  emotion 
approaching  to  sublimity  on  the  mind  of  a  Scotchman, 
the  first  time  he  sees  it; — an  emotion,  I  am  persuaded, 
very  different  from  what  would  be  experienced,  on  the 
same  occasion,  by  a  Fleming  or  a  Dutchman;  and  this^ 
abstracting  altogether  from  the  charm  of  novelty.  The 
feelings  connected  with  the  wide  expanse  over  which  his 
eye  was  accustomed  to  wander  from  the  summits  of  his 
native  mountains,  and  which,  in  hilly  countries,  are  to  be 
enjoyed  exclusively,  during  the  short  intervals  of  a 
serene  sky,  from  eminences  which,  in  general,  are  lost 
among  the  clouds, — these  feelings,  are  in  some  measure, 
awakened  by  that  enlarged  horizon  which  now  every 
where  surrounds  him;  the  principle  of  Association,  in 

*  The  pleasure  we  feel  in  the  consciousness  of  energy  is  but  a 
particular  case  of  that  arising  from  the  consciousness  of  Power. 

With  respect  to  the  pleasure  connected  wiui  the  consciousness  of 
Power,  see  some  remarks  in  a  small  volume,  entitled  "  Outlines  of 
Moral  Philosophy,"  by  the  author  of  this  work. 


380  ON  THE  SUBLIME.  [Essay  II. 

this,  as  in  numberless  other  cases,  transferring  whatever 
emotion  is  necessarily  connected  with  a  particular  idea, 
to  every  thing  else  which  is  inseparably  linked  with  it  in 
the  memory, 

*  This  natural  association  between  the  ideas  of  Elevation 
and  of  Horizontal  Extent  is  confirmed  and  enli\ened  by 
another,  arising  also  from  the  physical  laws  of  our  per- 
ceptions. It  is  a  curious,  and  at  the  same  time  a  well 
known  f^ict,  that,  in  proportion  as  elevation  or  any  other 
circumstance  widens  our  horizon,  the  enlargement  of  our 
horizon  adds  to  the  apparent  height  of  the  vault  above 
us.  It  was  long  ago  remarked  by  Dr.  Smith  of  Cam- 
bridge, that  "  the  known  distance  of  the  terrestrial  objects 
"  which  terminate  our  view',  makes  that  part  of  the  sky 
*'  w^iich  is  towards  the  horizon,  appear  more  distant  than 
"  that  which  is  towards  the  zenith;  so  that  the  apparent 
*'  figure  of  the  sky  is  not  that  of  a  hemisphere,  but  of  a 
"  smaller  segment  of  a  sphere."  To  this  remark  a  later 
writer  has  added,  that  "  when  the  visible  horizon  is  ter- 
*'  minated  by  very  distant  objects,  the  celestial  vault  seems 
"to  be  enlarged  in  all  its  dimensions." — "  When  1  view 
"  it"  (he  observes)  "  from  a  confined  street  or  lane,  it 
"  bears  some  proportion  to  the  buildings  that  surround 
"  me;  but  when  I  view  it  from  a  large  plain,  terminated 
"  on  all  hands  by  hills  which  rise  one  above  another,  to 
"  the  distance  of  twenty  miles  from  the  eye,  methinks  I 
*'  see  a  new  heaven,  whose  magnificence  declares  the 
"  greatness  of  its  author,  and  puts  every  human  edifice 
"  out  of  countenance;  for  now,  the  lofty  spires  and  the 
'*  gorgeous  palaces  shrink  into  nothing  before  it,  and  bear 
*'  no  more  proportion  to  the  celestial  dome,  than  their 


Chap.  III. J  ON  THE  SUBLTME.  381 

"makers  bear  to  its  maker."* — Let  the  same  experi- 
ment be  tried  from  the  summit  of  a  lofty  mountain,  com- 
manding an  immense  prospect  all  around  of  land  and  of 
sea;  and  the  effect  will  be  found  to  be  magnified  on  a  scale 
beyond  description. 

To  those  who  have  verified  this  optical  phenomena  by 
their  own  observation,  it  will  not  appear  surprising,  that 
the  word  Sublimity  should  have  been  transferred  from 
the  vertical  line,  not  only  to  the  horizontal  surface,  but 
also  to  the  immense  concavity  of  the  visible  hemisphere. 
As  these  various  modifications  of  space  are  presented  to 
the  eye  at  the  same  moment,  each  heightening  the  effect 
of  the  others,  it  is  easily  conceivable  that  the  same  epi- 
thet should  be  insensibly  applied  to  them  in  common;  and 
that  this  common  epithet  should  be  borrowed  from  that 
dimension  on  which  so  much  of  the  general  result  prima- 
rily depends,  t 

Another  extension  of  the  word  Sublimity  seems  to  be 
in  part  explicable  on  the  same  principle;  I  mean  the  ap- 
plication we  occasionally  make  of  it  to  the  emotion  pro- 
duced by  looking  downwards.  For  this  latitude  of  ex- 
pression I  already  endeavoured  to  account  from  other 
considerations;  but  the  solution  will  appear  still  more 
satisfactory,  when  it  is  recollected,  that,  along  with  that 
apparent  enlargement  of  the  celestial  vault,  which  v/e  en- 
joy from  a  high  mountain,  there  is  an  additional  percep- 
tion, which  comes  home  still  more  directly  to  our  personal 
feelings,  that  of  the  space  by  which  we  are  separated  from 
the  plain  below.  With  this  perception  a  feeling  of  Awe 

*  Reid's  Inquiry,  chap.  vi.  sect.  22.  t  Note  (E  e). 


382  ON  THE  SUBLIME.  [Essay  l!. 

(arising  partly  from  the  giddy  eminence  on  which  wc 
stand,  and  partly  from  the  solitude  and  remoteness  of  our 
situation)  is,  in  many  cases,  combined;  a  feeling  which 
cannot  fail  to  be  powerfully  instrumental  in  binding  the 
association  between  depth,  and  the  other  elements  which 
swell  the  complicated  emotion  excited  by  the  rare  inci- 
dent of  an  Alpine  prospect. 

"  What  dreadful  pleasure  there  to  stand  sublime, 

"  Like  shipivreck'd  mariner  on  desert  coast, 

"  And  view  th'  enormous  waste  of  vapours  toss'd 

"  In  billows  length'ning  to  th'  horizon  round; 

"  Now  scoop'd  in  gulfs,  in  mountains  now  emboss'd."* 

With  respect  to  the  concavity  over  our  heads,  (and  of 
which,  how  far  soever  we  may  travel  on  the  earth's  sur- 
face, the  summit  or  cope  is  always  exactly  coincident  with 
our  shifting  zenith)  it  is  farther  observable,  that  its  sub- 
lime effect  is  much  increased  by  the  mathematical  regu- 
larity of  its  form;  suggesting  the  image  of  a  vast  Rotunda^ 
having  "  its  centre  every  where,  and  its  circumference 
nowhere;"  a  circumstance  which  forces  irresistibly  on  the 
mind,  the  idea  of  something  analogous  to  architectural 
design,  carried  into  execution  by  Omnipotence  itself. 
This  idea  is  very  strongly  stated  in  the  passage  which  was 
last  quoted;  and  it  is  obviously  implied  in  the  familiar 
■transference  of  the  words  Vault  and  Dome,  from  the  edi- 

*  Accordingly,  Ave  find  the  poets  frequently  employing  words 
synonymous  with  Height  and  Depth,  as  if  they  were  nearly  converti- 
ble terms:  «  Blue  Profound." — (Akenside). — "  Rode  Sublime, 
The  secrets  of  th'  Abyss  to  spy." — (Gray).  "  Ccelum  Profundum." — 
(Virgil.)  The  phrase  Profunda  Altitudo  is  used,  even  by  prose 
writers.  An  example  of  it  occurs  in  Livy;  38.  23. 


Chap,  in.]  ON  THE  SUBLIME.  383 

fices  of  the  builder  to  the  divine  handy  work. — "  This 
*'  majesticalroof^  fretted  with  golden  fires," — an  expres- 
sion which  Shakespeare  applies  to  the  firmament,  has  been 
suggested  by  the  same  analogy. 

As  the  natural  bias  of  the  imagination,  besides,  is  to 
conceive  the  firmament  to  be  something  solid,  in  which 
the  sun,  moon,  and  stars,  are  mechanically  fixed,  a  senti- 
ment of  Wonder  at  the  unknown  means  by  which  the 
law  of  gravity  is,  in  this  instance,  counteracted,  comes  to 
be  superadded  to  the  emotion  excited  by  the  former  com- 
bination of  circumstances.  This  sentiment  is  very  fre- 
quently expressed  by  children;  and  the  feelings  of  child- 
hood have  often  an  influence  of  which  we  are  little  aware 
(more  especially  in  matters  of  Taste)  on  those  which  are 
experienced  in  the  maturity  of  our  judgment.* 

The  sublime  efiect  of  the  celestial  vault  is  still  farther 
heightened  by  the  vast  and  varied  space  which  the  eye 
has  to  travel  over  in  rising  gradually  from  the  horizon  to 
the  zenith:— "rcontem plating,  at  one  time,  the  permanent 
glories  of  the  starry  expanse;  at  another,  enjoying  the 
magical  illusions  with  which,  from  sunrise  till  sunset,  the 
clouds  diversify  the  sky.  To  this  immediate  impression 
produced  upon  the  senses,  must  be  added  the  play  given 
to  the  imagination,  in  supplying  the  remainder  of  that 
grand  spectacle  under  which  we  are  placed,  and  of  which 
the  sight  can  take  in  only,  at  one  and  the  same  moment, 
a  limited  portion.  As  the  smallest  arch  of  a  circle  ena- 
bles us  to  complete  the  whole  circumference,  so  the  slight- 
est glance  of  the  heavens  presents  to  our  conceptions  the 

*  "  Aspice  convexo  nutantem  pondere  mundum." 

Virg.  Bucol.  iv.  1.  59. 


384  ON  THE  SUBLIMK.  [Essay  II. 

entire  hemisphere;  inviting  the  thoughts  to  grasp,  at  once, 
Av  hat  the  laws  of  vision  render  it  impossible  for  us  to  per- 
ceive, but  in  slow  succession.  The  ingenious  and  well- 
known  remark  which  Mr.  Burke  has  made  on  the  plea- 
sure we  receive  from  viewing  a  Cylinder,  appears  to  me 
to  hold,  with  much  greater  exactness,  when  applied  to 
the  eftect  of  a  Spacious  Dome  on  a  spectator  placed  under 
its  concavity. 

In  all  such  cases,  however,  as  have  been  now  under 
our  consideration,  notwithstanding  the  variety  of  circum- 
stances by  which  the  effect  is  augmented  or  modified,  I 
am  inclined  to  think,  that  Sublimity,  literally  so  called, 
will  be  found,  in  one  way  or  another,  the  predominant 
element  or  ingredient.  In  the  description,  for  example, 
^\hich  Mr.  Brydone  has  given  of  the  boundless  prospect 
from  the  top  of  iEtna,  the  effect  is  not  a  little  increased 
by  the  astonishing  elevation  of  the  spot  from  whence  we 
conceive  it  to  have  been  enjoyed;  and  it  is  increased  in  a 
degree  incomparably  greater,  by  the  happy  skill  with 
which  he  has  divided  our  attention  between  the  spectacle 
below ^  and  the  spectacle  above. — Even  in  the  survey  of 
the  upper  regions,  it  will  be  acknowledged  by  those  who 
reflect  carefully  on  their  own  experience,  that  the  eye 
never  rests  till  it  reaches  the  zenith;  a  point  to  which 
numberless  accessary  associations,  both  physical  and 
moral,  unite  in  lending  their  attractions. 

After  the  remarks  which  have  been  already  made  on 
the  natural  association  between  the  ideas  of  elevation,  and 
of  horizontal  amplitude  in  general,  it  may,  at  first  sight, 
appear  superfluous  to  say  any  thing  farther  with  respect 
to  the  Sublimity  which  is  universally  ascribed  to  the 

2 


(;hap.  ni.J  ON  THE  SUBLIME.  385 

Ocean,  even  when  its  waves  are  still.  Li  this  particular 
case,  however,  the  effect  is  so  peculiarly  strong,  that  it 
may  be  fairly  presumed,  other  collateral  causes  conspire 
with  those  which  have  been  hitherto  mentioned;  and  ac- 
cordingly, a  variety  of  specific  circumstances  instantly 
occur,  as  distinguishing  the  surface  of  a  smooth  sea  from 
all  the  other  instances  in  which  the  epithet  Sublime  is 
applied  to  what  is  perfectly  flat  or  level. 

1.  Of  these  circumstances  one  of  the  most  prominent 
is  the  unfathomahle  depth  of  the  ocean;  or,  in  other  words, 
the  immeasurable  elevation  above  its  bottom,  of  those 
who  navigate  upon  its  surface.  Agreeably  to  this  idea, 
mariners  are  described  in  Scripture,  as  those  "  who  see 
*•'  the  wonders  of  the  great  deep;"  and  the  same  language 
is  employed  by  Gray,  to  exalt  our  conceptions  even  of 
the  sublime  flight  of  the  eagle. 

"  Sailing  with  supreme  dominion 
"  Thro'  the  azure  deeps  of  air." 

2.  The  sympathetic  f/r^-a^  associated  M'ith  the  perilous 
fortunes  of  those  who  trust  themselves  to  that  inconstant 
and  treacherous  element.  It  is  owing  to  this,  that  in  its 
most  placid  form,  its  temporary  effect  in  soothing  or  com- 
posing the  spirits  is  blended  with  feelings  somewhat 
analogous  to  what  are  excited  by  the  sleep  of  a  lion;  the 
calmness  of  its  surface  pleasing  chiefly,  from  the  contrast 
it  exhibits  to  the  terrors  which  it  naturally  inspires.* 

*  Gray  had  manifestly  this  analogy  in  his  view,  when  he  wrote  the 
following  lines:—. 

"Unmindful  of  the  sweeping'  whii-lvvind's  sway 

*'  That  hush'd  in  grim  repose  expects  its  evening-  prey" 

3C 


386  ON  THE  SUBLIME.  fEssRy  II. 

3.  The  idea  o^  literal  sublimity  inseparably  combined 
^vith  that  of  the  sea,  from  the  stupendous  spectacle  it  ex- 
hibits when  agitated  by  a  storm.  The  proverbial  phrase 
oi  mountain  billows  sufficiently  illustrates  the  force  and 
the  universality  of  this  combination.  A  tempestuous  sea 
of  mountains  is  accordingly  an  expression  applied  by  an 
ingenious  writer,  to  the  prospect  which  is  seen  in  one  di- 
rection from  the  top  of  Skiddaxv;  and  it  would  not  be  easy, 
in  the  same  number  of  words,  to  convey  a  juster  concep- 
tion of  what  he  wished  to  describe.  To  those  who  have 
actually  navigated  the  deep,  at  a  distance  from  every  visi- 
ble coast,  the  same  combination  of  ideas  must  present  it- 
self, even  when  the  surface  of  the  water  is  perfectly  tran- 
quil. Homer  has  accurately  seized  this  natural  impression 
of  the  fancy: 

"  AAA'  ore  3»j  t»v  ytja'oi/  sAejiro^ev,  «^£  t«5  «AA« 

Odyss.  Lib.  !2,  1.  403. 

4.  The  complete  dependence  of  the  state  of  the  ocean 
on  that  of  the  atmosphere;  and  the  association,  or  rather 
identification,  of  winds  and  waves  in  the  common  images 
of  danger  which  they  both  suggest. 

In  the  descriptions  of  shipwrecks,  which  occur  in  the 
ancient  poets,  the  sublimity  will  be  found  to  result  in  no 
inconsiderable  degree  from  this  identification;  and  indeed, 
in  this,  as  in  many  other  instances,  the  language  of  my- 
thology is  little  more  than  a  personification  of  the  natural 
workings  of  the  mind. 

*  "  Past  sight  of  shore,  along  the  surge  we  boundj 
"  And  all  above  is  sky,  and  ocean  all  around." 


ehap.m.]  _      ON  THE  SUBLIME.  387 

**  'Clf  UTUV)  Tvvxyev  vtlfitXxf,  irx^et^t  Se  woyrai', 

"  renxv  efta  >^  TranTey.  o^cu^et  S'  ygxvo6i^  iiv%."* 

Odyss.  Lib.  5.  1.  290. 

♦'  AXXoTi  ftfv  T£  Not®-  Bog£)j  v^o^xMerxe  ^eges-^ai, 
"  AAAots  *    asuT*  Ewg@-  Zi^pv^a  H^xo'x.e  5<»x«v."t 

Odyss.  Lib.  5.  1.  331. 

5.  The  aid  which  the  art  of  navigation,  in  all  the  stages 
of  its  progress,  derives  from  the  observation  of  the  stars; 
and  the  consequent  bias  given  to  the  fancy,  to  mount 
from  the  ocean  to  the  heavens.  A  pilot  seated  at  the  helm, 
with  his  eye  fixed  on  the  Pole,  while  the  rest  of  the  crew 
abandon  themselves  to  sleep,  forms  an  interesting  picture 
in  some  of  the  noblest  productions  of  human  genius.  In 
the  Odyssey,  this  astronomical  association  is  employed 
with  wonderful  success  by  the  genius  of  Homer,  to  im- 
part a  character  of  Sublimity,  even  to  the  little  raft 
of  Ulysses,  during  his  solitary  voyage  from  Calypso's 
island. 

"    Hftm®^.  n^t  e't  ilim®-  frt  fiM(px^oiciv  tviTrrty 
"  Tly^fttxdxi  t'  iire^uivTif  >^  a'v|'5  avovrx  Bo^T'<!y, 
"  A^KTov  S-',  »)v  >^  xfix^xv  itfikM^iv  KxMao-tvj 


*  "  He  spoke,  and  high  the  forky  trident  hurl'd 
"  Rolls  clouds  on  clouds,  and  stirs  the  watery  world, 
"  At  once  the  face  of  earth  and  sea  deforms, 
"  Swells  all  the  winds,  and  rouses  all  the  storms." 


t  "  And  now  the  south  and  now  the  north  prevails, 
"  Now  o'er  the  ocean  sweep  the  eastern  gales, 
"  And  now  the  west  winds  rend  the  fluttering  sails." 


} 


386  ON  THE  SUBLIME.  [Essay " 

"  'H  t'   elVTit  ?-§«^   TiJK,  )^  t'   Cl^iUVCC  ^6KtVH. 

'•  Or.)  0   xfifco^of  sy*  XoiT^ut  Clxixvoio  "' 

Odyss.  Lib.  5.  1.  270. 

Agreeably  to  the  same  bias  of  the  fancy,  the  principal 
constellations  in  our  astronomical  sphere  have  been  sup- 
posed, with  no  inconsiderable  probability,  to  be  emble- 
matical of  circumstances  and  events  connected  with  the 
oldest  voyage  ailudtd  to  in  profane  history,  the  expedition 
of  the  Argonauts. — What  an  accession  of  strength  must 
have  been  added,  in  every  philosophical  mind,  to  this  na- 
tural association,  in  consequence  of  the  methods  practis- 
ed by  the  moderns  for  finding  the  latitude  and  the  longi- 
tude! On  the  other  hand,  it  must  be  acknowledged,  that 
the  poetical  effect,  must,  to  a  certain  degree,  have  been 
weakened  by  the  discovery  of  the  polarity  of  the  needle. 

In  minds  which  have  been  impressed,  in  early  life, 
with  the  fabulous  and  popular  accounts  of  the  origin  of 
astronomy,  the  same  association  of  literal  sublimity  with 
the  objects  of  that  study,  imparts  somewhat  of  the  same 
character,  even  to  the  plains  and  to  the  shepherds  of  an- 
cient Chaldea.f 

*  "  Plac'd  at  the  helm  he  sate,  and  mark'd  the  skies, 
"  Nor  clos'd  in  sleep,  his  ever-watchful  eyes. 
"'  There  view'd  the  Pleiads,  and  the  Northern  Team, 
"  And  great  Orion's  more  refulgent  beam, 
"  To  which,  around  the  axle  of  the  sky 
"  The  Bear,  revolving,  points  his  golden  eye; 
"  Who  shines  exalted  on  th'  etherial  plain, 
"  Nor  bathes  his  blazing  forehead  in  the  main." 

t  Principio  Assyru,/iro/iter/ila?u(iein  magnitudinenique  regionum 
i/iias  incolcbanty  cum  calum  ex:  omvi  jxartc  fiatens  atqiie  apertum  in- 
'uercntur,  trajectiones  motusque  stellarum  observaverunt. — Qua  in 
natione,  Chaldaei,  diuturna  observatione  siderum  scientiam  putantur 
effecisse,  Sec.  &c. — Cic.  de  Divinat. 


Chap,  in.]  ON  THE  SUBLIME.  389 

6.  The  variety  of  modes  in  which  the  ocean  presents 
to  us  the  idea  oi  power.  Among  these,  there  are  two 
which  more  particularly  deserve  attention.  (1.)  Its  ten- 
dency to  raise  our  thoughts  to  that  Being  whose  "  hand 
*'  heaves  its  billows;"  and  who  "  has  given  his  decree  to 
"  the  seas,  that  they  might  not  pass  his  commandment." 
(2.)  Its  effect  in  recalling  to  us  the  proudest  triumph  of 
Man,  in  accomplishing  the  task  assigned  to  him,  of  sub- 
duing the  earth  and  the  elements. — Beside,  however, 
these  associations,  which  are  common  to  the  inhabitants 
of  aU  maritime  countries,  a  prospect  of  the  sea  must 
freo  icdd}  awaken,  in  every  native  of  this  island,  many 
sublime  recollections  which  belong  exclusively  to  our- 
selves; those  recollections,  above  all  others,  which  turn 
on  the  naval  commerce,  the  naval  power,  and  the  naval 
glory  of  England;  and  on  the  numerous  and  triumphant 
fleets  which  "  bear  the  British  thunder  o'er  the  world."* 

7.  The  easy  transition  by  which  a  moralizing  fancy 
passes  from  a  prospect  of  the  sea,  to  subjects  allied  to 
the  most  interesting  of  all  the  various  classes  of  our  sub- 
lime emotions; — from  the  ceaseless  succession  of  waves 
which  break  on  the  beach,  to  the  fleeting  generations  of 
men;  or,  from  the  boundless  expanse  of  the  watery  waste, 
to  the  infinity  of  Space,  and  the  infinity  of  Time. 

"  Haeres 
"  Haeredem  alterius,  velut  unda  supervenit  undam." 

"  Walk  thoughtful  on  the  silent  solemn  shore 
"  Of  that  vast  ocean  thou  must  sail  so  soon." 

In  which  last  lines  (as  well  as  in  Shakespeare's  hank  and 

*  Thomson. 


390  ON  THE  SUBLIME.  f  Essay  II. 

shoal  oftime)^  the  complete  union  of  the  subject  and  of 
the  simile  proves,  how  intimately  they  were  combined 
together  in  the  mind  of  the  poet. 

Before  closing  this  long  discussion  concerning  the 
effects  produced  on  the  imagination  by  the  connection 
between  the  ideas  of  Altitude  and  of  Horizontal  Extent,  I 
think  it  of  great  importance  to  remark  farther,  in  illustra- 
tion of  the  same  argument,  that  a  similar  association 
attaches  itself  to  these  words  when  employed  metaphori- 
cally. A  good  example  of  this  occurs  in  a  passage  of  the 
Novum  Organon,  where  the  author  recommends  to  the 
students  of  particular  branches  of  science,  to  rise  occa- 
sionally above  the  level  of  their  habitual  pursuits,  by 
gaining  the  vantage-ground  of  a  higher  philosophy. 
*'  Prospectationes  fiunt  a  turribus  aut  locis  praealtis;  et 
*'  impossibile  est,  ut  quis  exploret  remotiorcs  interio- 
'*  resque  scientise  alicujus  partes,  si  stet  super  piano  ejus- 
"  dem  scientiae,  neque  altioris  scientias  veluti  speculum 
**  conscendat:" — An  allusion  not  more  logically  appro- 
priate, than  poetically  beautiful;  and  which  probably 
suggested  to  Cowley  his  comparison  of  Bacon's  prophetic 
anticipations  of  the  future  progress  of  experimental 
philosophy,  to  the  distant  view  of  the  promised  land, 
which  Moses  enjoyed  from  the  top  of  Mount  Pisgah: 

"  Did  on  the  very  border  stand 

"  Of  the  blest  promised  land; 

"  And  from  the  mountain-top  of  his  exalted  wit, 

"  Saw  it  himself,  and  shew'd  us  it." 

The  metaphorical  phrases  of  scala  ascensoria  et  scala 
descensoria^  which  Bacon  applies  to  the  Analytical  and 


Chap.  lU]  ON  THE  SUBLIME.  391 

Synthetical  Methods,  shew,  in  a  still  more  explicit  man- 
ner, the  strong  impression  which  the  natural  association 
between  Altitude  and  Horizontal  extent  had  made  on  his 
imagination;  inasmuch  as  he  avails  himself  of  it,  as  the 
most  significant  figure  he  could  employ  to  illustrate,  in 
the  way  of  analogy,  the  advantages  which  he  expected  to 
result  from  his  own  peculiar  mode  of  philosophizing.  In- 
deed the  analogy  is  so  close  and  so  irresistible,  that  it  is 
scarcely,  possible  to  speak  of  Analysis  and  Synthesis, 
without  making  use  of  expressions  in  which  it  is  impli- 
ed.* When,  agreeably  to  the  rules  of  the  former,  we 
rise,  or  ascend,  from  particular  phenomena  to  general 
principles,  our  views  become  more  enlarged  and  compre- 
hensive, but  less  precise  and  definite  with  respect  to 
minute  details.  In  proportion  as  we  redescend  in  the 
way  of  synthesis,  our  horizon  contracts;  but  at  every  step, 
we  find  ourselves  better  enabled  to  observe  and  to  ex- 
amine, with  accuracy,  whatever  individual  objects  attract 
our  curiosity. 

In  pure  Mathematics,  it  is  to  the  most  general  and 
comprehensive  methods  of  inquiry,  that  we  exclusively 
appropriate  the  title  of  the  higher  or  sublimer  parts  of  the 
science;  a  figurative  mode  of  speaking,  which  is  rendered 
still  more  appropriate  by  two  collateral  circumstances; 
First,  that  all  these  methods,  at  the  time  when  this  epithet 
was  originally  applied  to  them,  involved,  in  one  form  or 
another,  the  idea  of  Infinity;  and.  Secondly,  that  the 
earliest,  as  well  as  the  most  successful  applications  of  them 
hitherto  made,  have  been  to  Physical  Astronomy,  f 

With  this  exception,  and  one  or  two  others,  for  which 

*  See  Note  (F  f).  t  Note  (G  g> 


392  ON  THE  SUBLIME.  [Essay  II 

it  is  easy  to  account,  it  is  remarkable,  that  the  epithet 
universally  applied  to  the  more  abstruse  branches  of 
knowledge  is  not  sublime  but  profound.  We  conceive 
truth  to  be  something  analogous  to  a  Treasure  hid  under 
ground;  or  to  the  Precious  Metals,  which  are  not  to  be 
obtained  but  by  digging  into  the  mine;  or  to  Pearls 
placed  at  the  bottom  of  the  sea,  inaccessible  to  all  but 
such  as  dive  into  the  deep. — Agreeably  to  this  analogy, 
we  speak  of  a  profound  mathematician,  a  profound  meta- 
physician; a  profound  lawyer;  a  profound  antiquary.* 

The  effect  of  this  analogy  has  probably  been  not  a  lit- 
tle strengthened  by  an  idea  which  (although  I  believe  it 
to  be  altogether  unfounded)  has  prevailed  very  generally 
in  all  ages  of  the  world.  I  allude  to  the  vulgar  opinion, 
that,  while  poetical  genius  is  the  immediate  gift  of  heaven, 
confined  exclusivel}'  to  a  few  of  its  favoured  children, 
the  most  recondite  truths  in  the  most  abstruse  sciences, 
are  within  the  reach  of  all  who  can  submit  to  the  labour 
of  the  search.  A  philosopher  of  the  first  eminence  has 
given  to  this  prejudice  the  sanction  of  his  authority,  re- 
marking, that  "it  is  genius,  and  not  the  want  of  it,  that 
"  adulterates  science,  and  fills  it  with  error  and  false 
*'  theory;"  and  that  "the  treasures  of  knowledge,  although 
*'  commonly  buried  deep,  may  be  reached  by  those 
"  drudges  who  can  dig  with  labour  and  patience,  though 
"  they  have  not  wings  to  fly."t 

*  These  opposite  analogies  are  curiously  combined  together  in  the 
following  sentence  of  Maclaurin.  Speaking  of  Leibniiz,  he  remarks: — 
"  We  doubt  not,  that  if  a  full  and  perfect  account  of  all  that  is  most 
^^  profound  in  the  hi^h  geometry  could  have  been  deduced  from  the 
"  doctrine  of  infinites,  it  might  have  been  expected  from  this 
"author." — (Fluxions,  V.  1.  p.  45.) 

t  In  this  criticism  on  Dr.  Reid,  I  have  been  anticipated  by  his 

2 


Chap.ni.3  ON  THE  SUBLIME:  393 

The  justness  of  this  doctrine,  I  shall  take  another  op- 
portunity to  examine  at  some  length.  I  have  referred  to 
it  here,  merely  as  an  additional  circumstance  which  may 
have  influenced  human  fancy,  in  characterizing  poetical 
and  philosophical  genius  by  two  epithets,  which  in  their 
literal  sense  express  things  diametrically  opposite. 

It  is,  at  the  same  time,  extremely  worthy  of  observa- 
tion, with  respect  to  the  metaphorical  meaning  of  both 
epithets,  that  as  the  opposite  of  the  Poetical  Sublime  is 
not  the  Profound,  but  the  Low  or  the  Grovelling;  so 
the  opposite  of  the  Philosophical  Profound  is  not  what  is 
raised  Above  the  level  of  the  earth,  but  the  Superficial 
or  the  Shallow. 

learned  and  ingenious  friend  Dr.  Gerard;  who,  after  quoting  the  above 
passage,  observes,  "  that  the  author's  modesty  under-rates  his  own 
"  abilities;  and,  in  this  instance,  renders  his  decision  inaccurate." — 
Gerard  on  Genius,  pp.  382,  .'^SS. 


^  D 


;94  ON  THE  SUBLLMP.  [Essay  H. 


CHAPTER  FOURTH. 

CONFIRMATION  OF    THE    FOIIEGOING    THEORY   FROM    THE    NATURAL 

SIGNS  OF  SUBLIME  EMOTION. RECIPROCAL  INFLUENCE  OF  THESE 

SIGNS  ON  THE  ASSOCIATIONS  WHICH  SUGGEST  THEM. 

1  HE  strength  and  power  of  the  associations  which  have 
been  now  under  our  review,  (how  trifling  and  capricious 
soever  some  of  them  may  appear  to  be  in  their  origin)  may 
be  distinctly  traced  in  the  arts  of  the  Actor  and  of  the 
Orator,  in  both  of  which  they  frequently  give  to  what  may 
be  called  metaphorical  or  figurative  applications  of  Natu- 
ral Signs,  a  propriety  and  force  which  the  severest  taste 
must  feel  and  acknowledge.  While  the  tongue,  for  ex- 
ample, is  employed  in  pronouncing  words  expressing  ele- 
vation of  character,  the  body  becomes,  by  a  sort  of  in- 
voluntary impulse,  more  erect  and  elevated  than  usual; 
the  eye  is  raised,  and  assumes  a  look  of  superiority  or 
command.  Cicero  takes  notice  of  the  same  thing  as  a 
natural  effect,  produced  on  the  Bodily  Expression,  by  the 
contemplation  of  the  universe;  and  more  particularly, 
of  subjects  which  are  exalted  and  celestial^  either  in  the 
literal  or  the  metaphorical  acceptation  of  these  words. 
*'  Est  animorum  ingeniorumque  quoddam  quasi  pabulum, 
*'  consideratio  contemplatioque  naturae.  Erigimur,  eleva- 
**  tiores  fieri  videmiir;  hurnana  despicimus;  cogitantcsque 
"  supera  atque  coelestia,  ha;c  nostra  ut  exigua  et  minima 
*'  contemnimus." 


Chap.  IV.]  ON  THE  SUBLIME.  395 

Even  in  speaking  of  any  thing,  whether  physical  or 
moral,  which  invites  Imagination  upwards,  the  tones  of 
the  voice  become  naturally  higher;  while  they  sink  spon- 
taneously to  a  deep  bass,  when  she  follows  a  contrary 
direction.  This  is  the  more  remarkable,  that  the  analogy 
apprehended  between  high  and  bw  in  the  musical  scale, 
and  high  and  low  in  their  literal  acceptations,  seems  to  be 
the  result  of  circumstances  which  have  not  operated  uni- 
versally among  our  species,  in  producing  the  same  asso- 
ciation of  ideas.* 

The  various  associations  connected  with  Sublimity  be- 
come thus  incorporated,  as  it  were,  with  the  Language  of 
nature;  and,  inconsequence  of  this  incorporation,  acquire 
an  incalculable  accession  of  influence  over   the  human 
frame.  We  may  remark  this  influence  even  on  the  acute 
and  distinguishing  judgment  of  Aristotle,  in  the  admi- 
rable description  of  Mgj/otAoil/v^/a  in  the  third  chapter  of 
his  Nicomachian  Ethics;  the  whole  of  which  description 
hinges  on  an  analogy  (suggested  by  a  metaphorical  word) 
between  Greatness  of  Stature  and  Greatness  of  Mind. 
The  same  analogy  is  the  ground-work  of  the  account  of 
Sublimity  in  Writing,  given  by  Longinus;  who,  although 
he  speaks  only  of  the  effect  of  sublimity  on  the  Mind, 
plainly  identifies  that  effect  with  its  Bodily  expression. 
*'  The  Mind"  (he  observes)  "  is  naturally  elevatedhy  the 
"  true  Sublime,  and,  assuming  a  certain  proud  and  erect 
"attitude,  exults  and  glories,  as  if  it  had  itself  produced 
"  what  it  has  only  heard."  The  description  is,   I  think, 
perfectly  correct;  and  may  be  regarded  as  a  demonstra- 
tive proof,  that,  in  the  complicated  effect  which  sub- 

*  See  Philosophy  of  the  Human  Mind,  ch.  v.  part  ii.  sect.  1. 


396  ON  THE  SUBLIME.  [Essay  U. 

limity  produces,  the  primary  idea  which  has  given  name 
to  the  A\  hole,  always  retains  a  decided  predominance  over 
the  other  ingredients. 

It  seems  to  be  the  expression  of  Mental  Elevation, 
conveyed  b}^  the  "  os  sublhne''^  of  man,  and  by  what  Mil- 
ton calls  the  looks  commercijig  with  the  skies,  which  is  the 
foundation  of  the  sublimity  we  ascribe  to  the  Human 
figure.  In  point  of  actual  height,  it  is  greatly  inferior  to 
various  tribes  of  other  animals;  but  none  of  these  have  the 
whole  of  their  bodies,  both  trunk  and  limbs,  in  the  di- 
rection of  the  vertical  line;  coinciding  with  that  tendency 
to  rise  or  to  mount  upwards,  which  is  symbolical  of  every 
species  of  improvement,  whether  intellectual  or  moral; 
and  which  typifies  so  forcibly  to  our  species,  the  pre- 
eminence of  their  rank  and  destination,  among  the  inhabi- 
tants of  this  lower  world.* 

*'  When  I  look  up  to  the  Heavens  which  thou  hast  made 
"  (says  an  inspired  writer);  to  the  Sun  and  Stars  which 
"  thoy  hast  ordained; 

"  Then  say  I,  what  is  man  that  thou  art  mindful  of  him, 
*'  or  the  son  of  man  that  thou  shouldst  visit  him! 

"  For  thou  hast  made  him  but  a  little  lower  than  the  an- 
"  gels;  thou  hast  crowned  his  head  with  glory  and  honour. 

*  "  Omnis  homines  qui  sese  student  praestare  caeteris  animalibus, 
"  summa  ope  niti  decet,  ne  vitam  silentio  transcant,  veluti  pecora, 
"  quae  natura  prona,  atquc  ventri  obcdicntiu,  Qnxit." — Sallust. 

*'  Separjit  hoc  nos 

««  A  gregc  miitoriim,  at(|iie  iJeo  vcnenibile  soli 
"  Sorllti  ingenium,  divinoriimciue  capaces, 
"  Alqiie  oxercendis  c;i})IeiKlisqiie  ai'tibus  apli, 
"  Sensum  a  coclesti  Uemissuni  traximvis  arce, 
"  Cujiis  cgent  prona  et  terram  spectantia." — 

Juvenal,  xv.  Sat.  i42. 


Ch«p.  IV. J  ON  THE  SUBLIME.  397 

*'  Thou  hast  put  all  things  under  hisfeety 

Intimately  connected  with  the  sublime  effect  of  man's 
erect  form  'is  the  imposing  influence  of  a  superiority  of 
stature  over  the  mind  of  the  multitude. — "  And  when 
"  Saul  stood  among  the  people,  he  was  higher  than  any 
"  of  them,  from  his  shoulders  and  upward. — And  all  the 
*'  people  shouted  and  said,  God  save  the  King." 

Even  in  the  present  state  of  society,  a  superiority  of 
stature  is  naturally  accompanied  with  an  air  of  authority, 
the  imitation  of  which  would  be  ludicrous  in  a  person 
not  possessed  of  the  same  advantages;  and  in  a  popular 
assembly,  every  one  must  have  remarked  the  weight 
which  it  adds  to  the  eloquence  of  a  speaker,  *' proudly 
"  eminent  above  the  rest  in  shape  and  gesture."* 

From  these  observations  it  is  easy  to  explain,  how  the , 
fancy  comes  to  estimate  the  intellectual  and  moral  excel- 
lencies of  individuals,  in  a  way  analogous  to  that  in  which 
we  measure  their  stature  (I  mean  by  an  ideal  scale  placed 
in  a  vertical  position);  and  to  employ  the  words  above, 
beloWy  superiority,  inferiority,  and  numberless  others,  to 
mark,  in  these  very  different  cases,  their  relative  advan- 
tages and  disadvantages.!  We  have  even  a  bias  to  carry 
this  analogy  farther;  and  to  conceive  the  various  orders 
of  created  beings,  as  forming  a  rising  scale  of  an  indefinite 
Altitude.  In  this  manner  we  are  naturally  led  to  give  the 
title  of  Sublime  to  such  attainments  and  efforts,  in  our 
own  species,  as  rise  above  the  common  pitch  of  humanity; 

*  See  Note  (H  h). 

t  A  trifling,  but  curious  instance,  of  an  analogous  association  may 
be  remarked  in  the  application  we  make  of  the  terms  High  and  Low 
to  the  Temperature  of  bodies,  in  consequence  of  the  vertical  positiou 
of  the  scale  in  our  common  Thermometers. 


398  OI^  THE  SUBUMI5.  ftissay  IT. 

and  hence,  the  origin  of  an  additional  association,  con- 
spiring with  other  circumstances  formerly  pointed  out, 
as  suggesting  a  metaphorical  application  of  that  word  to 
a  particular  class  of  the  higher  beauties  of  Style. 

It  appears  to  me  probable,  that  it  was  by  a  vague  ex- 
tension of  this  meaning  of  the  Sublime,  to  excellence  in 
general,  that  Longinus  was  led  to  bestow  this  epithet  on 
Sappho's  Ode;*  and  on  some  other  specimens  of  the  Ve- 
hement or  Impassioned,  and  also  of  the  Nervous,  and  of  the 
Elegant,  which  do  not  seem  to  rise  above  the  common 
tone  of  classical  composition  in  any  one  quality,  but  in 
the  finished  perfection  with  which  they  are  executed.  I 
confess,  at  the  same  time,  my  own  opinion  is,  that,  with 
all  his  great  merits  as  a  critic  and  as  an  eloquent  writer, 
his  use  of  this  word  throughout  his  treatise  can  neither 
be  accounted  for  nor  rendered  consistent  by  any  philoso- 
phical theory  whatever.  In  various  places,  he  evidently 
employs  it  precisely  in  the  same  sense  in  which  it  is  now 
generally  understood  in  our  language;  and  in  which  I 
have  all  along  used  it,  in  attempting  to  trace  the  connec- 
tion between  its  different  and  apparently  arbitrary  signifi- 
cations.! 

It  is  wonderful  that  Longinus  was  not  induced,  by 
his  own  very  metaphorical  description  of  the  effects  of 
sublime  writing,  to  inquire,  in  the  next  place,  to  what 
causes  it  is  owing,  that  sublime  emotions  have  the  ten- 
dency which  he  ascribes  to  them,  to  elevate  the  thoughts, 
and  to  communicate  literally  a  momentary  elevatioTi  to 
the  body.  At  these  effects  he  has  stopped  short,  without 
bestowing  any  attention  on  what  seems  to  me  the  most 
interesting  view  of  the  problem. 

*  Note  (I  i)r  t  Note  (K  k). 


Chap.  IV.3  ON  THE  SUBLOIE,  399 

Mr.  Burke  has  adopted  the  description  of  Longinus, 
and  has  stated  the  fact  with  still  greater  clearness  and 
fulness.  If  he  had  followed  out  his  ideas  a  little  further, 
he  would  probably  have  perceived  more  distinctly  than 
he  appears  to  have  done,  that  the  key  to  some  of  the 
chief  metaphysical  difficulties  supposed  to  be  connected 
■\vith  this  inquiry,  is  to  be  found  in  the  principles  which 
regulate  the  progressive  generalizations  of  the  import  of 
words;  and  in  those  laws  of  association,  which,  while  they 
insensibly  transfer  the  arbitrary  signs  of  thought  from  on« 
subject  to  another,  seldom  fail  to  impart  to  the  latter  a 
power  of  exciting,  in  some  degree,  the  same  emotions 
which  are  the  natural  or  the  necessary  effects  of  the 
former. 


400  ON  THE  SUBLIME.  fEssay  11. 


CHAPTER  FIFTH. 

INFERENCES    FROM    THE    FOREGOING    DOCTRINES,    WITH    SOME    AD- 
DITIONAL ILLUSTRATIONS. 

XjEFORE  I  conclude  this  Essay,  it  is  proper  forme  to 
remind  my  readers,  in  order  to  prevent  misapprehensions 
with  respect  to  the  foregoing  observations,  That  my  aim 
is  not  to  investigate  the  principles  on  which  the  various 
elements  of  Sublimity  give  pleasure  to  the  mind;  but  to 
trace  the  associations,  in  consequence  of  which  the  com- 
mon name  of  Sublimity  has  been  applied  to  all  of  them. 
It  is  not,  for  instance,  my  aim  to  shew,  that  the  xvhole 
effect  of  Horizontal  Amplitude  arises  from  its  association 
with  Elevation,  or  Height;  far  less,  that  it  is  this  associa- 
tion alone  which  delights  us  in  viewing  the  celestial  vault, 
with  all  the  various  wonders  it  exhibits  by  day  and  by 
night;  but  merely  to  explain,  from  this  principle,  the 
transference  of  the  epithet  Sublime,  from  one  modifica- 
tion of  space  to  all  the  others.  In  like  manner,  I  have  ab- 
stained altogether  from  giving  any  opinion  on  the  -very 
curious  question  concerning  the  pleasure  arising  from  cer- 
tain modifications  of  Terror;  because  it  did  not  appear  to 
me  to  have  any  immediate  connection  with  the  train  of 
my  argument.  It  is  sufficient  for  my  purpose,  if  I  have 
succeeded  in  accounting  for  the  place  which  the  Terrible, 
when  properly  modified,  is  generally  allowed  to  occupy 

2 


^hap.  v.]  ON  THE  StJBLnrE.  401 

among  the  constituents,  or  at  least  among  the  natural  ad- 
juncts of  the  Sublime. 

Although  I  have  attempted  to  shew,  at  some  length, 
that  there  is  a  specific  pleasure  connected  with  the  simple 
idea  of  Sublimity  or  Elevation,  I  am  far  from  thinking, 
that  the  impressions  produced  by  such  adjuncts  as  Eter- 
nity or  Power,  or  even  by  the  physical  adjuncts  of  Hori- 
zontal Extent  and  of  Depth,  are  wholly  resolvable  into 
their  association  with  this  common  and  central  concep- 
tion. I  own,  however,  I  am  of  opinion,  that,  in  most 
cases,  the  pleasure  attached  to  the  conception  of  literal 
sublimity,  identified,  as  it  comes  to  be,  with  those  re- 
ligious impressions  which  are  inseparable  from  the  human 
mind,  is  one  of  the  chief  ingredients  in  the  complicated 
emotion;  and  that,  in  everj^  case,  it  either  palpably  or 
latently  contributes  to  the  effect. 

From  this  constant  or  very  general  connection,  too, 
which  these  diiferent  ingredients  have  with  each  other,  as 
well  as  with  the  central  idea  of  Elevation,  they  must 
necessarily  both  lend  and  borrow  much  accessory  influ- 
ence over  the  mind.  The  primary  effect  of  Elevation  it- 
self cannot  fail  to  be  astonishingly  increased  by  its  asso- 
ciation with  such  interesting  and  awful  ideas  as  Immen- 
sity, Eternity,  Infinite  Power,  and  Infinite  Wisdom; 
blended  as  they  are  in  our  conceptions  with  that  still  sub- 
limer  attribute  of  God,  which  encourages  us  to  look  up 
to  him  as  the  Father  of  All.  On  the  other  hand,  to  all  of 
these  attributes,  Elevation  imparts,  in  its  turn,  a  common 
character  and  a  common  epithet. 

Supposing,  therefore,  the  foregoing  conclusions  to  be 
admitted  as  just,  a  wide  field  of  speculation  lies  qpen  t« 

3E 


402  ON  THE  SUBLIME.       "  [Essay  ft. 

future  inquirers.  To  some  of  these,  I  flatter  myself,  the 
hints  which  I  have  suggested  may  be  useful,  if  not  in 
conducting  them  into  tlie  right  path,  at  least  in  diverting 
them  IVom  the  vain  attempt  to  detect  a  common  quality 
in  the  metaphysical  essence  of  things,  which  derive  their 
common  name  only  from  the  tie  of  Habitual  Association. 
In  confirmation  of  what  I  have  just  stated  concerning 
the  primary  or  central  idea  of  Elevation,  it  may  be  fer- 
ther  remarked,  that  when  we  are  anxious  to  communicate 
the  highest  possible  character  of  Sublimity  to  any  thing 
we  are  describing,  we  generally  contrive,  somehow  or 
other,  either  directly,  or  by  means  of  some  strong  and 
obvious  association,  to  introduce  the  image  of  the  -Hea- 
vens, or  of  the  Clouds;  or,  in  other  words,  of  Sublimity 
literally  so  called.  The  idea  of  Eloquence  is  unquestion- 
ably sublime  in  itself,  being  a  source  of  the  proudest  and 
noblest  species  of  Power  which  the  mind  of  one  man 
can  exercise  over  those  of  others:  but  how  wonderfully 
is  its  sublimity  increased  when  connected  with  the  image 
of  Thunder;  as  when  we  speak  of  the  Thunder  of  De- 
mosthenes! "  Demosthenis  non  tam  vibrarent  fulmina, 
"  nisi  numeris  contorta  ferrentur." — Milton  has  fully 
availed  himself  of  both  these  associations,  in  describing 
the  orators  of  the  Greek  republics: 

"  ResistJess  eloquence 
"  Wielded  at  will  the  fierce  democracy; 
"  Shook  th'  arsenal,  and  fulmin'd  over  Greece, 
"  To  Maccdon,  and  Artaxerxes*  throne." 

In  Collins's  ode  to  Fear,  the  happy  use  of  a  single 
word  identifies  at  once  the  Physical  with  the  Moral  Sub- 
lime, and  concentrates  the  effects  of  their  united  force. 


Chap,  v.]  ON  THE  SUBLIME.  403 

"  Tho'  gentle  pity  claim  her  mingled  part, 
"  Yet  all  the  thunders  of  the  scene  are  thinel" 

The  same  word  adds  not  a  little  to  the  efiect  of  one 
of  the  sublimest  descriptions  in  the  book  of  Job.  "  Hast 
*'  thou  given  the  horse  strength;  hast  thou  clothed  his 
"  neck  with  thunder?"* 

In  the  concluding  stanza  of  one  of  Gray's  odes,  if  the 
bard,  after  his  apostrophe  to  Edward,  had  been  repre- 
sented as  falling  on  his  sword,  or  as  drowning  himself  in 
a  pool  at  the  summit  of  the  rock,  the  Moral  Sublime,  so 
far  as  it  arises  from  his  heroical  determination  "  to  con- 
quer and  to  die,"  would  not  have  been  in  the  least  dimi- 
nished; but  how  different  from  the  complicated  emotion 
produced  by  the  images  of  altitude;  of  depth;  of  an  impe- 
tuous and  foaming  flood;  of  darkness;  and  of  eternity;  all 
of  which  are  crowded  into  the  two  last  lines: 

"  He  spoke — and  headlong  from  the  mountain's  height 
"  Deep  in  the  roaring  tide  he  plung'd  to  endless  night." 

Among  the  Grecian  sages,  Plato  has  been  always  more 
peculiarly  characterized  by  the  epithet  Sublime;  and  in- 
deed, on  various  accounts,  it  is  strongly  and  happily  de- 
scriptive of  the  feelings  inspired  by  the  genius  of  that 
author;  by  the  lofty  mysticism  of  his  philosophy;  and 
even  by  the  remote  origin  of  the  theological  fables  which 
are  said  to  have  descended  to  him  from  Orpheus.  The 
following  passage  paints  the  impressions  of  a  German 
scholar,!  when  he  first  met  with  the  Indigltamenta  or 

*  Note  (L  1). 

t  Eschenbach — I  am  indebted  for  this  quotation  to  Dr.  Akenside's 
notes  subjoined  to  his  Hymn  to  the  Naiads. 


404  ON  THE  SUBLlMfc.  [Eseay  11. 

Orphic  Hymns,  during  an  accidental  visit  to  Leipsic;  and 
the  scenery  which  he  has  employed  to  embellish  his  pic- 
ture, is  wortliy  of  the  imagination  of  Plato  himself.  The 
skill  with  which  he  has  called  in  to  his  aid  the  darkness 
and  silence  and  awfulness  of  midnight,  may  be  compared 
to  some  of  the  finest  touches  of  our  master- poets;  but 
what  I  wish,  at  present,  chiefly  to  remark,  is  the  effect  of 
Altitude  and  of  the  Starry  Firmament  in  exalting  our 
conceptions  of  those  religious  mysteries  of  the  fabulous 
ages,  which  had  so  powerfully  awakened  the  enthusiasm 
of  the  writer. — "  Incredibile  dictu  quo  me  sacro  horrore 
*'  afflaverint  indigitamenta  ista  deorum:  nam  et  tempus 
"  ad  illorum  lectionem  eligere  cogebar,  quod  vel  solum 
"  horrorem  incutere  animo  potest,  nocturnum;  cum  enira 
*'  totam  diem  consumserim  in  contemplando  urbis  splen- 
"  dore,  et  in  adeundis,  quibus  scatet  urbs  ilia,  viris  doc- 
*'  tis,  sola  nox  restabat,  quam  Orpheo  consecrare  potui. 
"  In  abyssum  quendam  mysteriorum  veneranda2  antiqui- 
"  tatis  descendere  videbar,  quotiescunque  silente  mundo, 
"  solis  vigilantibus  astris  et  luna,  y.iKoi.\Y,<^(i.-x'6<;  istos  hym- 
*'  nos  ad  manus  sumpsi." 

It  is  curious,  how  very  nearly  the  imagination  of  Mil- 
ton, in  alluding  to  the  same  topics,  has  pursued  the  same 
track: 

"  Or  let  my  lamp  at  midnight  hour 
"  Be  seen  in  some  high  lonely  tow'r, 
"  Where  I  may  oft  out-watch  the  Bear, 
*■'  With  thrice  great  Hermes,  or  unsphere 
"  The  spirit  of  Plato,  to  unfold 
"  What  worlds,  or  what  vast  regions  hold 
"  Th'  immortal  mind  that  hath  forsook 
'•  ilcr  mansion  in  this  fleshly  nook: 


Chap,  V.3  ON  THE  SUBLIME.  4C>5 

"  And  of  those  demons  that  are  found 
"  In  fire,  air,  flood  or  under  ground, 
"  Whose  power  hath  a  true  consent 
"  With  planet,  or  with  element."* 

If  these  observations  be  just,  the  question  which  has 
been  so  often  agitated  with  respect  to  the  comparative 
effects  of  the  Physical  and  Moral  Sublime,  must  appear 
entirely  nugatory;  their  general  result  leading  to  this  con- 
clusion, that  all  the  qualities,  which  we  refer  to  both,  unite 
in  forming  ojie  ajid  the  same  group  of  associations.  The  ideas 
thus  associated,  may  be  conceived  to  bear  some  distant 
analogy,  in  their  mutual  communications  with  each  other, 
and  in  their  common  communication  with  that  great  foun- 
tain of  sublime  emotion  in  which  they  all  centre,  to  the 
system  of  circulation  in  the  animal  frame; — or,  perhaps, 
in  this  point  of  view,  the  associated  elements  of  Sublimity 
may  be  still  more  aptly  compared  to  the  different  jars 
composing  an  Electrical  Battery;  each  of  which  is  prepa- 
red to  contribute,  at  one  and  the  same  moment,  its  pro- 
portional share  to  the  joint  explosion. 

In  the  following  well-known  illustration  of  the  superi- 
ority of  the  Moral  above  the  Physical  Sublime,  it  is  re- 
markable, that  while  the  author  exemplifies  the  latter  only 
by  the  magnitude  and  momentum  of  dead  masses,  and 
by  the  immensity  of  space  considered  in  general,  he  not 
only  bestows  on  the  former  the  interest  of  a  historical  pain- 
ting, exhibiting  the  majestic  and  commanding  expression 
of  a  Roman  Form,  but  lends  it  the  adventitious  aid  of 
an  allusion,  in  which  the  imagination  is  carried  up  to 

*  The  doctrine  of  the  soul's  preexistence  is  ascribed  by  Plata, 
himself  to  Orpheus. 


406  ON  THE  SUBLIME.  tEssay  H, 

Jupiter  armed  with  his  bolt.  In  fact,  it  is  not  the  two 
different  kinds  of  sublimity  which  he  has  contrasted  with 
each  other,  but  a  few  of  the  constituents  of  the  Physical 
Sublime  which  he  has  compared,  in  point  of  effect  with 
the  powers  of  the  Physical  and  Moral  Sublime  combined 
together  in  their  joint  operation: 

«  Look  then  abroad  thro'  nature,  to  the  range 

"  Of  planets,  suns,  and  adamantine  spheres 

"  Wheeling  unshaken  thro'  the  void  immense; 

"  And  speak,  O  man!  does  this  capacious  scene 

"  With  half  that  kindling  majesty  dilate 

<'  Thy  strong  conception,  as  when  Brutus  rose 

"  Refulgent  from  the  Stroke  of  Csesar's  fate, 

"  Amid  the  crowd  of  Patriots,  and  his  arm 

"  Aloft  extending  like  eternal  Jove 

"  When  guilt  brings  down  the  thunder,  call'd  aloud 

"  On  Tully's  name,  and  shook  his  crimson  steel, 

"  And  bade  the  father  of  his  countiy,  hail! 

"  For  lo!  the  tyrant  prostrate  in  the  dust,- 

"  And  Rome  again  is  free." 

I  shall  close  this  essay,  with  hinting  very  slightly,  that 
how  nearly  soever  allied  to  Literal  Sublimity  are  all  the 
various  kinds  of  the  Metaphorical  Sublime,  it  is  by  no 
means  an  infallible  rule,  for  the  attainment  of  the  latter, 
to  soar  at  once  into  the  clouds;  far  less,  to  string  together 
words  and  images  expressive  of  what  is  elevated  or  lofty. 
I  mention  this,  because  it  is  a  common  mistake  among 
juvenile  writers;  and  a  mistake  into  which  they  are  not 
unnaturally  betrayed,  by  the  language  consecrated  to  that 
group  of  associations  which  I  have  been  endeavouring  to 
illustrate.*  The  employment  of  phrases  expressive  of 
mere  elevation,  and  unaccompanied  with  any  display  of 

*  Dum  vitat  humum,  nubes  et  inania  captat. 


Chap.  V.J  ON  THE  SUBLIME.  407 

genius,  good  sense,  or  skill,  produces  one  of  the  most 
absurd  species  of  the  false  sublime;  that  which  is  properly 
expressed  by  the  words  bombast  and  fustian.  To  the 
faults  of  this  inflated  style,  Longinus  applies  the  metapho- 
rical title  of  meteorsy^  a  word  strongly  significant  of  the 
impression  which  they  produce  on  minds,  in  which  the 
power  of  taste  has  not  been  duly  cultivated.  In  this  res- 
pect, he  seems  to  have  conceived  the  false  Sublime  as 
bearing  the  same  relation  to  the  true,  which  Pope  has  so 
well  described,  in  contrasting  false  with  true  Wit: 

"  Bright  as  a  blaze,  but  in  a  moment  gone; — 
"  Ti'ue  Wit  is  everlasting  like  the  Sun," 

To  avoid  all  risk  of  any  imputation  of  this  sort,  writers 
of  taste  find  it,  in  most  cases,  expedient,  in  the  hackneyed 
and  worn  out  state  of  our  traditional  imagery,  when  they 
wish  to  produce  an  emotion  of  Sublimity,  to  touch  on 
some  of  its  less  familiar  adjuncts,  or  on  some  of  the  as- 
sociated ideas  which  follow  in  their  train;  rather  than  to 
dwell  on  the  idea  of  Literal  Sublimity,  or  on  any  of  its 
more  common-place  concomitants.f  An  example  of  this 

*  Ovx^  viptiXx  eiXXu,  ^inu^x. — Sect.  3. 

t  Among  these,  thunder  and  lightning  are  favourite  resources 
with  all  writers  whose  taste  inclines  them  to  the  bomda&t: 

"  Up  from  Rhyme's  poppied  vale,  and  ride  the  storm 
"  That  thunders  in  blank  verse." 

Such  is  the  exordium  of  a  poem,  by  an  author  not  destitute  of  ge- 
nius (Aaron  Hill),  who  lived  in  habits  of  intimacy  with  Pope,  Thom- 
son, and  Bolingbroke.  On  the  other  hand,  in  proportion  to  the  diffi- 
culty of  the  task,  is  the  effect  produced,  when  the  most  obvious  ad- 
juncts of  sublimity  are  skilfully  and  happily  presented  in  new  and 
unexpected  combinations.  Collins  furnishes  an  instance  of  this  in  a 


408  ON   THE  SUBLIME  [Essay  If. 

occurs  in  Bailly's  description  of  an  Astronomical  Obser- 
ver, preparing  himself  to  enter  on  his  nightly  task,  when 
other  mortals  arc  retiring  to  rest.  The  elevation  of  the 
spectacle  above  him,  which  forms  the  most  prominent 
feature  in  a  passage  formerly  quoted  from  Ovid's  Fasti, 
and  which  undoubtedly  contributes  more  than  any  thing 
else  to  impart  a  Sublime  Character  to  the  Astronomer's 
situation  and  employment,  is  studiously  kept  out  of  view, 
while  our  attention  is  drawn  to  secondary  and  less  obvi- 
ous circumstances,  which  derive  the  principal  part  of  their 
effect  from  the  sublimity  of  that  accompaniment  which  it 
is  left  to  fancy  to  supply; — "  to  the  prospect  of  a  midnight 
"  solitude; — to  the  silent  lapse  of  time,  interrupted  only 
"  by  the  beats  of  the  Astronomical  Clock; — to  the  motion- 
"  less  posture  of  the  Observer,  (his  eye  attached  to  the 
"  Telescope,  his  ear  intent  upon  the  vibrations  of  the 
"  Pendulum,  his  whole  soul  riveted  to  the  fleeting  in- 
"  stant  which  is  never  to  return); — to  the  mathematical 
**  regularity  of  the  celestial  movements,  inviting  the  Ima- 
*'  gination  to  follow  them  through  their  Stupendous  Cy- 
"  cles; — and  to  the  triumph  of  Human  Reason  in  render- 
"  ing  even  the  Heavens  subservient,  to  complete  the 
"  dominion  of  Man  over  the  Earth  and  the  Ocean." — I 
have  attempted  to  bring  together,  from  a  very  imperfect 
recollection,  a  few  of  the  principal  traits  of  this  noble  pic- 
ture. For  the  rest  I  must  refer  to  the  very  eloquent  work 
from  which  they  are  borrowed; — recommending  to  my 

line  quoted  above;  and  Campbell  a  noble  one,  in  a  couplet,  descrip- 
tive merely  of  the  altitude  of  a  mountain. 

"Where  Andes,  giant  of  the  western  star, 

"  Withaiieteor-standard  to  the  winds  unfurl'd, 

"  Looks  from  his  tlirone  of  clouds  o'er  half  tlie  world." 

2      . 


Chap,  v.]  ON  THE  SUBLIME,  409 

readers,  if  they  should  have  the  curiosity  to  consult  the 
original,  to  observe  (as  a  farther  confirmation  of  the  fore- 
going speculations)  the  elevation  of  style  which  the  author 
maintains  through  the  whole  of  his  narrative;  an  elevation 
naturally  inspired  by  the  Sublimity  of  his  subject;  and 
which  would  have  appeared  wholly  out  of  place,  in  tra- 
cing the  origin  and  progress  of  any  other  branch  of  physi- 
cal science,  involved  to  the  same  degree  in  the  techjiical 
mysteries  of  numbers  and  of  diagrams.* 

•  Note  (M  m). 


3F 


ESSzVY  THIRD. 


ON  TASTE. 


CHAPTER  FIRST. 

GENERAL  OBSERVATIONS  ON  OUR  ACQUIRED  POWERS  OF  JUDGMENT. 
APPLICATION  OF  THESE  TO  THE  SUBJECT  OF  THIS  ESSAY, 

IN  treating,  on  a  former  occasion,  of  the  faculty  of  At- 
tention, I  endeavoured  to  illustrate  those  intellectual  pro- 
cesses, which,  by  often  passing  through  the  mind,  conic 
at  length  to  be  carried  on  with  a  rapidity  that  eludes  all 
our  efforts  to  remark  it;  giving  to  many  of  our  judgments, 
which  are  really  the  result  of  thought  and  reflection,  the 
appearance  of  instantaneous  and  intuitive  perceptions. 
The  most  remarkable  instance  of  such  processes  which 
the  history  of  the  human  understanding  affords,  occurs 
in  what  are  commonly  called  the  acquired  perceptions  of 
sight;  the  theory  of  which  has  engaged  the  curiosity  of 
many  philosophers  since  the  time  of  Berkeley,  and  seems 
to  be  now  pretty  generally  understood.  The  other  cases 
which  I  allude  to,  appear  to  me  to  be  extremely  analo- 
gous to  these  acquired  perceptions,  and  to  be  explicable 
on  the  same  general  principles.  The  most  material  differ- 


Chap.  I.  J  ON  TASTE.  411 

cnce  consists  in  this,  that  the  acquired  perceptions  of 
sight  are  common  to  the  whole  human  race;  the  common 
necessities  of  our  nature  forcing  every  man  to  cultivate, 
from  early  infancy,  the  habits  by  which  they  are  formed; 
whereas  the  greater  part  of  our  other  acquired  judgmentSj 
being  the  result  of  habits  connected  with  particular  pro- 
fessions, or  pursuits,  are  peculiar  to  certain  classes  of  in- 
dividuals. 

Next  to  the  acquired  perceptions  of  sight,  may  be 
ranked,  in  point  of  rapidity,  those  processes  of  thought 
which  pass  through  the  mind,  in  the  familiar  operations 
of  reading  and  of  writing.  In  the  former  operation,  the 
meaning  of  what  we  read  seems  to  be  seized  at  once  with 
the  instantaneousness  of  a  perception.  In  the  latter,  as 
the  train  of  our  ideas  proceeds,  we  find  these  ideas  re- 
corded upon  paper,  by  an  almost  spontaneous  movement 
of  the  hand; — a  movement  which  has  no  more  tendency 
to  distract  our  attention,  than  the  function  of  respiration, 
or  the  action  of  the  heart.  It  is  the  familiarity  alone  of 
such  phenomena,  that  prevents  the  generality  of  men 
from  reflecting  on  them  with  the  wonder  which  they  ex- 
cite in  the  mind  of  the  philosopher;  and  which  will  be 
found  always  to  rise  higher,  in  proportion  to  the  accuracy 
of  the  analysis  to  which  he  subjects  them. 

But  it  is  not  as  a  subject  of  wonder  only,  that  these 
phenomena  ought  to  be  regarded.  The  practical  lesson 
which  they  suggest  is  of  the  highest  importance;  and  is 
calculated  to  inspire  us  with  new  confidence  and  vigour, 
in  the  cultivation  of  whatever  intellectual  habits  our  situa- 
tion in  life  may  render  it  useful  for  us  to  possess.  Such 
was  the  inference  which  was  long  ago  drawn  from  them 


412  ON  TASTE.  [Essay  UI. 

bv  Po]\  bius,  Avith  a  spirit  of  philosophical  gtnerahzation, 
which  is  not  ofien  to  be  met  with  in  ancient  historians. 

"  It  would  be  eas}'"  (says  this  most  judicious  ^mte^) 
'*  to  shew  by  instances,  that  many  things  which  appear, 
"  in  the  beginning-,  to  be  not  only  difficult  but  absolutely 
"  impracticable,  are,  in  the  course  of  time,  and  by  con- 
"  tinued  use,  accompiishtrd  with  the  greatest  ease.  Among 
**  numberless  instances,  the  art  of  reading  may  be  men- 
"  tioned  as  one  of  the  clearest  and  most  convincing 
"  proofs  of  this  remark.  Take  a  man  who  has  never 
*'  learned  to  read,  but  is  otherv^ise  a  man  of  sense;  set  a 
'*  child  before  him  who  has  learned,  and  order  him  to 
"  read  a  passage  in  a  book.  It  is  certain  that  this  man 
"  will  scarcely  be  able  to  persuade  himself,  that  the  child, 
"  as  he  reads,  must  consider  distinctly,  First,  the  form  of 
"  all  the  letters;  in  the  Next  place,  their  power;  and 
"  Thirdly,  their  connection,  one  with  another.  For  each 
"  of  these  things  requires  a  certain  portion  of  time. 
"  When  he  hears  him,  therefore,  read  four  or  five  lines 
"  together,  without  any  hesitation,  and  in  a  breath,  he 
"  will  find  it  Ytry  difficult  to  believe  that  the  child  never 
"  saw  the  book  before.  But  if  to  the  reading  some  ges- 
*'  ture  also  should  be  added;  if  the  child  should  attend  to 
"  all  the  stops,  and  observe  all  the  breathings,  rough  and 
"  smooth,  it  will  be  absolutely  impossible  to  convince 
"  the  man  that  this  is  true.  From  hence,  therefore,  we 
"  may  learn,  never  to  be  deterred  from  any  useful  pursuit 
"  b}'  tUe  seeming  difficulties  that  attend  it;  but  to  endea- 
"  vour  rather  to  surmount  these  difficulties  by  practice 
"and  habit. ''*■ 

•  Hampton's  Translation. — ^The  above  extract  forms  part  of  a  very 
iateresUDg  di&cussioD  coQceming  the  use  of  an  ancient  Teleg^raph. 


CVp.IO  ON  TASTE.  413 

A  rapidity  somewhat  approaching  to  that  which  is  ex- 
emplified in  reading  and  writing,  has  frequently  been  ac- 
quired by  those  whose  attention  has  been  early  and  con- 
stantly directed  to  arithmetical  computations.  The  quick- 
ness of  that  glance  with  which  they  are  able  to  tell,  at  once, 
the  sum  resulting  from  the  addition  of  long  columns  of 
figures,  is  incredible  to  those  who  have  not  witnessed  it; 
and  is  not  easily  explicable  by  those  who  have. 

It  is  to  an  acquired  rapidity  of  judgment,  resembling 
what  is  exhibited  in  the  preceding  instances,  th:it  I  am 
inclined  to  ascribe  a  remarkable  circumstance  in  the  in- 
tellectual endowments  of  Sir  Isaac  Newton,  which  that 
great  man  (if  we  may  credit  Whiston),  seems  to  have 
thought  connected  with  some  original  peculiarity  of 
genius: — I  allude  to  his  intuitive  perception  of  various 
mathematical  conclusions,  by  no  means  obvious  to  ordi- 
nary understandings.  As  an  example  of  this,  a  well- 
known  property  of  the  Ellipse  is  mentioned;*  of  which 
(though  certainly  by  no  means  self-evident)  Newton  is 
said  to  have  told  his  friend  Mr.  Cotes,  that  he  saw  at 
once  the  truth,  without  the  intermediation  of  any  process 
of  reasoning  whatsoever.  For  an  explanation  of  the  fact, 
according  to  my  idea  of  it,  I  must  refer  my  readers  to 
some  observations  which  I  have  stated  in  the  Philosophy 
of  the  Human  Mind.  At  present  I  shall  only  add,  as 
another  circumstance  which  may  occasionally  mislead  a 
mathematician  in  estimating  the  quickness  of  his  own 
perceptions,  That,  after  having  once  ascertained  the  con- 

*  That  the  parallelogram,  formed  by  the  tangents  passing  througt 
the  vertices  of  any  two  of  its  conjugate  diameters,  is  always  of  thdt 
same  magnitude. 


414  ON  TASTE.  [Essay  m. 

nection  between  two  propositions  by  a  process  of  reason- 
ing,  and  fixed  this  connection  in  the  memory,  the  one 
proposition  will,  in  future,  suggest  the  other  as  its  neces- 
sary and  immediate  consequence.  In  this  manner,  an  ex- 
perienced mathematician  proceeds,  as  it  were,  by  leaps, 
from  one  truth  to  another;  and  may  sometimes  mistake, 
for  an  intuitive  judgment,  a  conclusion  deduced  from  a 
long  process  of  thought,  now  obliterated  from  the  mind. 

Another  instance  of  extraordinary  rapidity  of  thought 
occurs  in  individuals  who  are  daily  conversant  with  me- 
chanical inventions.  Where  a  person,  possessed  of  equal 
intellectual  ability,  would  find  himself  bewildered  and 
lost  among  the  details  of  a  machine,  the  practised  me- 
chanician comprehends,  in  an  instant,  all  the  relations  and 
dependencies  of  the  different  parts.  We  are  apt  to  ascribe 
this  quickness  to  a  difference  of  natural  capacity;  but  it 
is,  in  reality,  chiefly,  if  not  entirely,  the  effect  of  Habit 
in  familiarizing  the  mind  to  artificial  combinations  of  cir- 
cumstances; in  the  same  manner  in  vi'hich  the  general 
physical  laws,  which  are  obvious  to  the  senses  of  all  men, 
insensibly  adapt  to  themselves  the  order  of  their  ideas, 
and  render  a  correspondent  set  of  Habits  apparently  a 
Second  Nature.  Hence  it  is,  that,  in  viewing  a  complica- 
ted machine,  the  experienced  engineer  finds  himself  at 
home  (if  I  may  use  a  familiar,  but  very  significant  phrase): 
while,  on  the  same  occasion,  a  person  of  different  pur- 
suits, feels  as  if  transported  into  a  new  world. 

The  quickness  and  variety  of  intellectual  combination, 
exemplified  in  every  sentence  uttered  by  an  extempore 
;peaker,  is  the  result  of  analogous  habits: — And  where 
aich  a  talent  includes,  not  merely  a  fluency  of  correct 


Cjiap.Ij  ON  TASTE.  415 

and  eloquent  expression,  but  a  perfect  command  of  what- 
ever powers  he  may  possess,  whether  of  argument,  of 
persuasion,  of  fancy,  or  of  wit,  it  furnishes  unquestion- 
ably the  most  splendid  of  all  the  proofs  that  can  be  pro- 
duced, of  the  astonishing  capacities  of  human  genius. 
— But  on  this  topic  (which  I  have  often  destined  for  the 
subject  of  a  separate  Essay)  I  forbear  to  enlarge  at  pre- 
sent. 

Similar  observations  to  these  might  be  extended  to  all 
the  various  applications  of  the  understanding.  Not  that 
I  would  insinuate,  with  Helvetius,  that  in  point  of  quick- 
ness, or  of  any  other  mental  quality,  the  whole  of  our 
species  stand  originally  on  the  same  level.  All  that  I 
would  be  understood  to  assert  amounts  to  this,  that 
wherever  we  sec  the  intellectual  faculties  displayed  on 
particular  subjects,  with  a  celerity  far  surpassing  what 
we  are  accustomed  to  remark  in  ordinary  life;  instead  of 
forming  any  rash  inference  concerning  the  inequalities  of 
genius  in  different  individuals,  we  shall,  in  general,  judge 
more  safely,  by  considering  the  fact  in  question,  merely 
as  an  illustration  of  those  habits  of  observation  and  of 
study,  to  which  some  peculiarity  of  inclination  has  pre- 
disposed, or  some  peculiarity  of  situation  has  trained  the 
mind.* 

*  A  classical  author  has  elegaptly  conveyed  the  same  maxim,  by 
the  order  in  which  he  has  arranged  the  qualities  enumerated  in  the 
following  sentence:  "  Vincebat  omnes  cura,  vigilantia,  patientia,  cal- 
"  liditaie,  et  celeritate  ingenii."  The  last  of  the  catalogue  he  plainly 
considered  as  only  the  result  of  the  habits-  imposed  by  the  former. 

Montaigne  had  probably  an  idea  somewhat  similar  to  this,  when 
he  remarked,  (in  speaking  of  the  game  of  chess) — "La  precellence 
«  rare  et  au  dessus  du  commun  messied  a  un  homme  d'honneur  en 
"  chose  frivole."  A  marked  and  unrivalled  pi'eeminence  in  such  accora- 


416  ON  TASTE.  [Essay  III. 

To  exemplify  this  conclusion,  I  can  think  of  no  better! 
instance,  than  that  military  eyem  the  survey  of  a  country, 
which,  in  some  men,  appears  almost  in  the  form  of  a 
Sixth  Sense.  The  French  writers  allude  forcibly  to  the 
rapidity  of  its  perceptions,  by  the  phrase  coup  d'ml, 
which  they  employ  to  express  it.  "It  is  a  talent  (says 
"  Guibert,  in  his  Essay  on  Tactics)  which  may  be  im- 
'*  proved,  but  which  is  not  to  be  acquired  by  practice.  It 
"  is  an  intuitive  faculty,  and  the  gift  of  Nature;  a  gift 
"  which  she  bestows  only  on  a  few  favourites  in  the  course 
*'  of  an  age."  The  same  author,  however,  elsewhere  quali- 
fies these  very  strong  assertions,  by  remarking,  that  the 
principal  means  by  which  a  military  man  acquires  it,  is 
daily  practice  in  his  youth;  constantly  keeping  in  view  its 
culture  and  improvement,  not  only  when  actually  employ- 
ed in  the  field,  but  while  amusing  himself  with  a  journey 
or  with  a  hunting  expedition,  in  times  of  peace. — In  con- 
firmation of  this,  he  refers  to  the  studies  and  exercises  by 
which  Philopoemen  (who  has  been  always  peculiarly  cele- 
brated for  this  talent)  prepared  himself  for  the  duties  of 
his  profession;  and  certainly  no  example  could  have  been 
referred  to,  fitter  to  illustrate  the  comment,  or  more  di- 
rectly in  opposition  to  the  general  maxim.  The  account 
given  of  these  studies,  by  Livy,  is  so  circumstantial  and 

plishmcnts  he  seems  to  have  considered,  as,  at  once,  evidence  of  a 
more  tiian  ordinary  degree  of  industry  and  perseverance,  directed 
to  an  object  of  ^iittle  comparative  value,  and  as  symptomatic  of  an 
undue  desire  to  display  advantages  over  others,  which  would  cease 
to  attract  wonder,  if  the  secret  were  discovered  of  the  time  and 
labour  sacrificed  to  their  acquisition. 

The  weakness  alluded  to  by  Montaigne  is,  in  a  more  peculiar 
manner,  characteristical  of  those  who  have  been  trained  up,  from 
childhood,  in  the  habits  and  prejudices  connected  with  elevated  rank. 

2 


Ghap.ij  ON  TASTE.  417 

interesting,  that  I  shall  make  no  apology  for  transcribing 
it  at  length;  more  especially,  as  it  affords  a  moral  lesson, 
equally  applicable  to  all  the  various  pursuits  of  mankind. 

"  Erat  autem  Philopoemen  pr^ecipue  in  ducendo  agmine 
*'  locisque  capiendis  solertise  atqueusus;  nee  belli  tantum 
"  temporibus,  sed  etiam  in  pace,  ad  id  maxime  animuni 
"  exercuerat.  Ubi  iter  quopiam  faceret,  et  ad  difficilem 
"transitu  saltum  venisset,  contemplatus  ab  omni  parte 
"loci  naturam,  quum  solus  erat,  secum  ipse  agitabat  ani- 
"  mo;  quum  comites  haberet,  ab  iis  quserebat,  si  hostis 
"  eo  loco  apparuisset,  quid  si  a  fronte,  quid  si  ab  latere 
"  hoc  aut  illo,  quid  si  a  tergo  adoriretur,  capiendum  con- 
"  silii  fpret?  Posse  instructos  recta  acie,  posse  inconditum 
*'  agmen,  et  tantummodo  aptum  vi^,  occurrere.  Quern 
"locum  ipse  capturus  esset,  cogitando  aut  quserendo, 
"  exsequebatur;  aut  quot  armatis,  aut  quo  genere  armo- 
"  rum  usurus:  quo  impedimenta,  quo  sarcinas,  quo  tur- 
"  bam  inermem  rejiceret:  quanto  ea  aut  quali  pra^sidia 
"  custodiret;  et  utrum  pergere  qua  caspisset  ire  via,  an 
^'  ea  qua  venisset  repetere  melius  esset:  castris  quoque 
"  quern  locum  caperet,  quantum  munimento  amplectere- 
"  tur  loci,  qua  opportuna  aqaatio,  qiia  pabuli  ligno- 
''  rumque  copia  esset;  qua  poster©  die  castra  movendi 
"  tutum  maxime  iter,  quas  forma  agminis  foret. — His 
"  curis  cogitationibusque"  (the  historian  adds)  "  ita  ab 
"  ineunte  setate  animum  agitaverat,  ut  nulla  ei  nova  in  tali 
"  re  cogitalio  esset." 

The  assertion  of  Guibert,  which  led  me  to  introduce 
the  foregoing  quotation,  may  perhaps  appear  to  some  too 
extravagant  to  merit  any  notice  in  the  present  state  of 
science;  but  it  is  not  more  than  a  century  ago,  since  the 

3  G 


418  ON  TASTK.  [Essay  m. 

common  ideas,  even  of  speculative  men,  concerning  the 
talent  to  which  it  relates,  were  as  vague  and  erroneous 
as  they  are  at  present,  with  respect  to  the  general  theory 
of  our  intellectual  habits.  Accordingly,  we  find  that  Fo- 
lard,  in  his  essay  on  the  coup  d''ceil  militaire,  labours  to 
correct  the  prejudices  of  those  who  considered  a  military 
eye  as  a  gift  of  nature,  as  strenuously  as  Mr.  Burke,  Sir 
J.  Reynolds,  Dr.  Gerard,  and  Mr.  Alison  have  combat- 
ed, in  our  own  times,  the  prevailing  doctrines  which  class 
Taste  among  the  simple  and  original  faculties  which  be- 
long to  our  species.* 

An  accurate  examination  and  analysis  of  our  various 
acquired  powers  of  judgment  and  intellectual  exertion, 
as  they  are  exemplified  in  the  different  walks  of  life,  would, 
if  I  am  not  mistaken,  open  some  prospects  of  the  mind, 
equally  new  and  interesting.  At  present,  however,  I  pro- 
pose to  confine  myself  to  the  power  of  Taste;  partly  on 
account  of  its  close  connection  with  the  train  of  think- 
ing which  I  have  pursued  in  the  two  preceding  Essays; 
and  partly  of  its  extensive  influence,  in  a  cultivated  soci- 
ety, both  on  the  happiness  of  individuals,  and  on  the  gen- 
eral state  of  manners.  My  speculations  concerning  some 
other  powers  of  the  understanding,  which  I  consider  as 
entirely  analogous  in  their  origin,  will  find  a  place  in  the 
sequel  of  my  work  on  the  Human  Mind;  if  I  should  live 
to  execute  that  part  of  my  plan,  which  relates  to  the  va- 
rieties of  genius,  and  of  intellectual  character. 

It  was  with  a  reference  to  the  Power  which  I  am  now 
to  examine,  and  to  the  doctrine  with  respect  to  it,  which 

*  See  Note  (N  n> 


Chap.  I.]  ON  TASTE.  419 

I  wish  at  present  to  establish,  that  I  was  led,  many  years 
ago,  (in  treating  of  those  rapici  processes  of  thought, 
which  it  is  sometimes  of  importance  to  bring  to  light  by 
patient  investigation)  to  take  notice  of  the  peculiar  diffi- 
culty of  arresting  and  detecting  our  fleeting  ideas,  in  cases 
where  they  lead  to  any  interesting  conclusion,  or  excite 
any  pleasant  emotion. 

The  fact  seems  to  be  (as  I  have  observed  on  the  same 
occasion)  that  "  the  mind,  when  once  it  has  felt  the  plea- 
*'  sure,  has  little  inclination  to  retrace  the  steps  by  which 
"  it  arrived  at  it."  It  is  owing  to  this,  that  Taste  has  been 
so  generally  ranked  among  our  original  faculties;  and  that 
so  little  attention  has  hitherto  been  given  to  the  process 
by  which  it  is  formed.  Dr.  Gerard  and  Mr.  Alison,  in- 
deed, have  analysed,  with  great  ingenuity  and  success, 
the  most  important  elements  which  enter  into  its  compo- 
sition, as  it  exists  in  a  well-informed  and  cultivated  mind; 
and  some  very  valuable  observations  on  the  same  subject 
may  be  collected  from  Montesquieu,  Voltaire,  and  D'Al- 
enlbert:  but  it  did  not  fall  under  the  design  of  any  of  these 
writers  to  trace  the  growth  of  Taste  from  its  first  seeds  in 
the  constitution  of  our  nature;  or  to  illustrate  the  analogy 
which  it  exhibits,  in  some  of  the  intellectual  processes 
connected  with  it,  to  what  takes  place  in  various  other 
acquired  endowments  of  the  understanding.  It  is  in  this 
point  of  view,  that  I  propose  to  consider  it  in  this  Es- 
say;— a  point  of  view,  in  which  I  am  sensible  the  subject 
by  no  means  presents  the  same  pleasing  and  inviting  as- 
pect, as  when  examined  in  its  connection  with  the  rules  of 
philosophical  criticism;  but  in  which  it  is  reasonable  to 
expect,  that  it  may  afford  some  new  illustrations  of  the  the- 


42b  ON  TASTE.  [Essay  III. 

ory  of  the  human  mind.  The  two  inquiries,  it  is  obvious, 
are  widely  different  from  each  other;  resembling  some- 
what, in  their  mutual  relation,  that  which  exists  between 
Berkeley's  analysis  of  the  process  by  which  children  learn 
to  judge  of  distances  and  magnitudes,  and  the  researches 
of  the  Optician  concerning  the  defects  to  which  vision  is 
liable,  and  the  means  by  which  art  is  enabled  to  enlarge 
the  sphere  of  its  perceptions. 

Different,  however,  as  these  inquiries  are  in  their  aim. 
they  may  perhaps  be  found  to  reflect  light  on  each  other, 
in  the  course  of  our  progress;  and,  indeed,  I  should  dis- 
trust the  justness  of  my  own  opinions,  were  they  to  lead 
me  to  any  conclusions  materially  different  from  those 
which  have  been  sanctioned  by  so  many  and  so  high  aur 
tiiorities. 


Cliap.  IIj  ON  TASTE.  .421 


CHAPTER  SECOND. 

GRADUAL  PROGRESS  BY  WHICH  TASTE  IS  FORMED. 

1  HAVE  already  said,  that  notwithstanding  the  attempts 
which  a  few  philosophers  have  made  to  ascertain  the  na- 
ture of  Taste,  the  prevailing  notions  concerning  it  are 
far  from  being  correct  or  definite.  Of  this,  no  doubt  can 
be  entertained  by  those  who  have  observed  the  manner 
in  which  it  is  classed  by  some  of  the  latest  writers  on 
the  human  mind,  in  their  analysis  of  our  intellectual  fa- 
culties; or  who  recollect  the  definitions  given  of  it,  in  our 
most  popular  books  of  criticism.  It  is  sufficient  for  me  to 
mention  that  of  Dr.  Blair,  according  to  which  its  charac- 
teristical  quality  is  said  to  consist  in  "  a  power  of  receiv- 
*'  ing  pleasure  from  the  beauties  of  nature  and  of  art." 
From  the  following  lines,  too,  it  would  appear  that  the 
idea  of  it  entertained  by  Akenside  was  nearly  the  same: 

"  What  then  is  Taste,  but  these  internal  powers, 
"  Active  and  strong,  dx\A  feelingly  alive 
"  To  each  fine  impulse?" 

It  is  in  consequence  of  this  g\ft  that  we  are  supposed 
to  be  susceptible  of  the  pleasures  resulting  from  a  poem, 
a  picture,  a  landscape,  a  well-proportioned  building,  a 


422  ON  TASTE.  [Essay  Kl. 

regular  set  of  features;  and  it  is  to  those  individuals  who 
possess  it,  that  Nature  is  understood  to  have  confined 
exclusively  the  right  of  pronouncing  judgment  in  the  fine 
arts,  and  even  on  the  beauties  of  her  own  productions. 

If  these  ideas  be  just,  it  evidently  follows,  that  the  de- 
gree of  our  taste  is  proportioned  to  the  degree  of  pleasure 
we  are  fitted  to  receive  from  its  appropriate  objects.  The 
fact,  however,  is  certainly  different.  Many  whose  taste  is 
indisputably  good,  contemplate  with  little  interest  what 
they  acknowledge  to  be  beautiful;  while  others,  in  whom 
the  slightest  pretension  to  taste  would  be  justly  treated 
with  ridicule,  are  affected,  on  the  same  occasion,  with 
rapture  and  enthusiasm.  Nor  are  the  words  Taste  and 
Sensibility  by  any  means  conceived  to  be  synonymous  in 
the  common  apprehensions  of  mankind.  On  the  contrary, 
a  more  than  ordinary  share  of  the  latter  quality  is  apt  to 
be  regarded  as  pretty  strong  evidence  of  some  deficiency 
in  the  former. 

That  Taste  does  not  consist  in  sensibility  alone,  appears 
farther  from  this,  that  it  is  susceptible  of  improvement 
from  culture,  in  a  higher  degree,  perhaps,  than  any  other 
power  of  the  mind;  whereas  the  acuteness  of  all  our  feel- 
ings is  diminished  by  a  repetition  of  the  impression. — 
The  truth  of  this  last  remark  will  be  fully  established  in 
another  part  of  my  work,  where  I  shall  have  occasion  to 
contrast  the  opposite  effects  of  habit  on  our  passive  im- 
pressions and  on  our  active  principles. 

These  general  observations  are  sufficient  to  shew,  that 
the  definition  of  Taste,  formerly  quoted,  is  at  least  incom- 
plete; and  that  this  power  must  necessarily  include  other 
elements  in  its  composition. 


Qhap.n.]  ON  TASTE.  423 

In  order  to  ascertain  what  these  elements  are,  the  first 
step  seems  to  be,  to  examine  that  particular  class  of  ob- 
jects with  which  taste  is  conversant.  In  this  part  of  oiu- 
inquiry,  the  conclusions  to  which  we  have  been  led  by 
the  foregoing  speculations,  will,  I  hope,  furnish  some  use- 
ful principles. 

From  the  train  of  thought  which  I  pursued  in  a  former 
Essay,  it  appeared,  that,  even  in  those  objects  of  taste 
which  are  presented  to  the  mind,  by  the  sense  of  Seeing 
alone,  an  indefinite  variety  of  circumstances,  of  very  dif- 
ferent kinds,  may  conspire  in  producing  that  agreeable, 
effect,  to  the  cause  of  which  we  give  the  name  of  Beauty: — 
colours,  forms,  motion,  proportion,  fitness,  symmetry, 
variety,  utility,  with  all  the  modifications  of  which  they 
are  susceptible; — together  with  the  numberless  charms 
attached  to  moral  expression,  or  arising  from  associations 
established  by  custom,  between  the  material  world  and 
our  complicated  frame.  It  appeared  farther,  that  in  such 
instances,  the  pleasing  emotion  (heightened,  as  it  fre- 
quently is,  by  the  concomitant  pleasures  of  Sound)  con- 
tinues still,  as  far  as  our  consciousness  can  judge  of  it,  to 
be  simple  and  uncompounded,  and  that  all  the  different 
sources  from  which  it  proceeds  are  naturally  united,  and 
identified  in  our  conceptions,  with  the  organic  impressions 
on  the  eye  or  on  the  ear.* 

*  Voltaire  furnishes  an  apposite  illustration  of  this  remark,  in  his 
description  of  the  opera  at  Paris: 

*'  II  faut  se  rendre  a  ce  palals  mag'lque, 
"  Ou  les  beaux  vers,  la  danse,  la  musique, 
*•  L'art  de  charmer  Ics  yeux  par  les  touleurs; 
"  L'art  plus  heureux  de  seduire  les  ccEurs, 
"  De  cent  plaisirs  font  un  plaisir  unique." 

Akcn- 


424  ON  TASTE.  [Essay  III. 

It  is  scarcely  necessary  for  me  to  remark,  that  it  is 
not  by  reasoning  a  priori,  that  we  can  hope  to  make  any 
progress  in  ascertaining  and  separating  the  respective  ef- 
fects of  the  various  ingredients  which  may  be  thus  blen- 
ded in  the  composition  of  Beauty.  In  analysing  thes^,  we 
must  proceed  on  the  same  general  principles  by  which 
we  are  guided  in  investigating  the  physical  and  chemical 
properties  of  material  substances;  tliat  is,  we  must  have 
recourse  to  a  series  of  observations  and  experiments  on 
beautiful  objects  of  various  kinds;  attending  diligently  to 
the  agreeable  or  the  disagreeable  effects  we  experience,  in 
the  case  of  these  diversified  combinations.  The  conclusions 
Ave  thus  form,  may,  it  is  obvious,  enable  us  afterwards  to 
recompound  the  same  elements,  according  to  our  own  fan- 
cy, so  as  to  diversify  or  to  increase  the  pleasure  produced; 
while  they  furnish  an  agreeable  exercise  to  the  intellectual 

Akenside  has  remarked  this  disposition  of  the  mind,  to  identify 
the  sources  of  the  secondary  or  accessory  pleasures  it  enjoys,  with 
those  perceptions  of  seeing  and  hearing  which  form  the  fihysicat 
basis  (if  I  may  use  the  expression)  of  our  idea  of  the  Beautiful. 
The  examples  he  has  selected  are  equally  familiar  and  striking: 

"  So,  while  we  taste  the  fragrance  of  the  rose, 
*'  Glows  not  Ijcr  blush  the  fairer?  while  we  view, 
"  Amid  the  noon-tide  walk,  a  limpid  rill 
*'  Gush  thro'  the  trickling  herbag-c,  to  the  thirst 
"  Of  summer  yielding  the  delicious  draught 
"  Of  cool  refreshment;  o'er  the  mossy  brink 
"  Sliines  not  the  surface  clearer,  and  the  \vave<< 
"  With  sweeter  mu.sic  murmur  us  they  flow;" 

Another  illustration  of  the  same  thing  may  be  collected  from  the 
wonderful  effect  on  the  estimate  we  form  of  the  heauty  of  a  particu- 
lar landscape,  by  the  agreeable  or  dis^jgreeable  temperature  of  the 
atmosphere  at  the  moment  we  see  it.  How  very  different  seems 
the  aspect  of  the  same  scene,  according  as  the  wind  happens  to  blow 
from  the  East,  or  from  the  West! 

2 


Chap,  n.]  ON  TASTE.  425 

powers,  in  tracing  the  beauties,  both  of  nature  and  of  art, 
to  their  general  laws. 

o 

In  all  these  experiments  and  observations,  it  is  worth 
while  to  add,  the  result  is  judged  of  by  attending  to  our 
own  feelings;  as,  in  our  researches  concerning  heat^  we 
appeal  to  the  thermometer.  By  habits  of  this  kind,  there- 
fore, it  is  reasonable  to  expect  that  we  may  acquire  a 
power  of  remarking  those  slighter  impressions,  whether 
pleasant  or  painful,  which  are  overlooked  by  ordinary  ob- 
servers; in  the  same  manner  as  the  touch  of  a  blind  man 
appears  to  improve,  in  consequence  of  the  peculiar  atten- 
tion which  he  is  led  to  bestow  on  the  perceptions  of  the 
hand.  Our  sensibility  to  beauty  does  not,  in  this  way, 
become  really  more  exquisite  and  delightful  than  before; 
but,  by  attracting  our  notice  in  a  greater  degree,  it  is 
rendered  a  nicer  and  more  delicate  instrument  for  assist- 
ing the  judgment  in  its  estimate  of  facts. 

Nor  is  it  only  in  analysing  the  pleasing  ingredients 
which  enter  into  the  composition  of  beautiful  objects,  that 
observations  and  experiments  are  necessary  to  those  who 
wish  to  study  the  principles  of  Beauty,  with  a  view  to 
their  practical  applications.  Whether  their  aim  may  be  to 
produce  new  combinations  of  their  own,  or  to  pronounce 
on  the  merits  and  defects  of  those  executed  bv  others,  it 
is  of  essential  importance,  that  they  should  be  able  to 
separate  what  is  pleasing  from  what  obstructs  the  agree- 
able effect.  Independently  of  experience,  however,  the 
most  exquisite  sensibility,  seconded  by  the  most  acute 
intellect,  cannot  lead  to  a  single  conclusion  concerning  the 
particular  circumstances  from  which  the  pleasure  or  un- 
easiness arises.   In  proportion,  indeed,  to  the  degree  of 

3H 


426  ON  TASTE.  [Essay  III. 

the  observer's  sensibility,  he  will  be  delighted  with  the 
former  and  offended  with  the  latter;  but  till  he  is  able  to 
draw  the  line  distinctly  between  them,  his  sensibility  will 
afford  no  lights  of  which  he  can  avail  himself  in  future, 
either  as  an  artist  or  as  a  judge.  It  is  in  this  distingidsh- 
hig  or  discriminating  perception,  that  the  power  denoted 
by  the  word  Taste  seems  to  me  chiefly  to  consist. 

The  fact  is  perfectly  analogous  in  that  bodily  sense  from 
which  this  mental  power  derives  its  name.  A  dealer  in 
wines  is  able,  in  any  of  the  common  articles  of  his  trade, 
to  detect  the  least  ingredient  which  does  not  properly 
enter  into  the  composition;  and,  in  pronouncing  it  to  be 
good  or  bad,  can  fix  at  once  on  the  specific  qualities 
which  please  or  offend.  It  is  not  on  the  sensibility  of  his 
organ  that  this  power  depends.  Some  degree  of  sensibility 
is  undoubtedly  necessary  to  enable  him  to  receive  any 
sensation  at  all;  but  the  degree  of  his  distinguishing 
power  is  by  no  means  proportioned  to  the  degree  of  his 
sensibility.  At  the  same  time,  it  is  manifestly  this  distin- 
guishing power  alone,  which  renders  his  judgment  in 
wine  of  any  use  to  himself  in  his  purchases,  or  of  any 
value  to  those  whose  gratification  is  the  object  of  his  art. 

Mr.  Hume,  in  his  Essay  on  the  Standard  of  Taste,  has 
approached  nearly  to  this  view  of  the  subject,  in  the  ap- 
plication ^vhich  he  makes  to  it,  of  a  story  in  Don  Quixote: 
And,  although  I  can  by  no  means  assent  to  the  general 
train  of  reasoning  which  that  essay  contains,  I  cannot 
help  availing  myself  of  the  support,  which,  on  this  funda- 
mental point,  my  conclusions  may  receive  from  their 
coincidence  with  those  of  so  profound  a  writer;  as  well 
as  of  the  very  happy  illustration  which  he  has  employed 
in  its  statement. 


Chap,  n.3  ON  TASTE.  427 

"  It  is  with  good  reason,"  says  Sancho  to  the  squire 
with  the  great  nose,  "  that  I  pretend  to  have  a  judgment 
"  in  wine.  This  is  a  quality  hereditary  in  our  family. 
**  Two  of  my  kinsmen  were  called  to  give  their  opinion 
*'  of  a  hogshead  which  was  supposed  to  be  excellent, 
*'  being  old  and  of  a  good  vintage.  One  of  them  tastes  it; 
"  considers  it;  and  after  mature  reflection  pronounces  the 
**  wine  to  be-good,  were  it  not  for  a  small  taste  of  leather 
*•  which  he  perceived  in  it.  The  other,  after  using  the 
"  same  precautions,  gives  also  his  verdict  in  favour  of  the 
"  wine;  but  with  the  reserve  of  a  taste  of  iron,  which  he 
"  could  easily  distinguish.  You  cannot  imagine  how  thc}^ 
"  were  both  ridiculed  for  their  judgment.  But  whol^ugh- 
"  ed  in  the  end?  On  emptying  the  hogshead,  there  was 
*'  found  at  the  bottom  an  old  key,  with  a  leathern  thong 
"tied  to  it." 

Another  circumstance,  remarkably  characteristical  of 
intellectual  Taste,  is  the  ijistantaneousiiess  with  which  its 
decisions  appear,  in  most  instances,  to  be  formed.  In  this 
respect,  likewise,  it  resembles  the  external  sense  after 
which  it  is  named;  and  indeed  the  analogy  between  the 
two  powers  is,  in  various  points,  so  complete,  as  suffi- 
ciently to  account  for  an  application  of  the  same  expres- 
sions to  both;  and  even  to  justify  those  writers  who  have 
iittempted  to  illustrate  the  theory  of  the  former,  by  an 
examination  of  the  more  obvious  and  familiar  percep- 
tions  of  the  latter. 

It  is  somewhat  curious,  that  Voltaire  should  have  been 
so  strongly  impressed  with  this  analog}^  as  to  conclude, 
that  it  must  have  presented  itself  universally  to  the  hu- 
man understanding,  in  all  ages  of  the  world.  '^  The  feel- 


428  ON  1 ASTE.  fEssay  Hi.. 

"  ing'*  (he  observes)  "  by  which  we  distinguish  beauli^ 
"  and  defects  in  the  arts,  is  prompt  in  its  discernm«^nt, 
*'  and  anticipates  reflection,  like  the  sensations  of  the 
*'  tongue  and  palate.  Both  kinds  of  Taste,  too,  enjoy,  with 
*'  a  voluptuous  satisfaction,  what  is  good;  and  reject  what 
*'  is  bad,  with  an  emotion  of  disgust.  Accordingly,"  (he 
adds)  "  this  metaphorical  application  of  the  word  taste y 
"  is  common  to  all  known  languages."* 

It  is  scarcely  necessary  for  me  to  remark,  that  the  meta- 
phor here  mentioned  by  Voltaire,  is  entirely  of  modern 
origin.  Petronius,  indeed,  as  Dr.  Beattie  has  observed, 
seems  to  have  employed  sapo7'  in  this  figurative  sense; 
but  the  use  he  has  made  of  that  word  is  so  peculiar  to 
himself,  that  it  has  been  urged  as  a  presumption  in  favour 
of  the  opinion  of  those  critics  who  think,  that  the  book 
which  passes  under  his  name  is,  at  least  in  part,  the  com- 
position of  a  later  period. f 

Although,  however,  in  the  ancient  languages,  the  word 
Taste  was  certainly  not  employed  in  that  metaphorical 
acceptation  which  has  now  become  so  familiar  to  the  ear, 
it  is  evident  that  the  analogy  which  has  led  to  the  meta- 
phor did  not  entirely  escape  the  ancient  critics.  Quincti- 
lian,  in  particular,  speaking  of  this  very  power,  observes, 
*'  That  it  is  not  to  be  communicated  by  instruction  any 
"  more  than  the  senses  of  taste  or  of  smell;"J  and  with 
respect  to  some  of  its  objects,  he  tells  us,  that  "  they  are 

*  Encyclop.  art.  Gout. 

t  The  passage  in  question  is  this:  "  Sermonem  habes  non  publici 
(' safioris,"' — i.  e.  (commentantc  et  interprete  Gcsncro)  non  placen- 
tem  vulgo,  sed  sapientibus.  Ad  sensum  communcm,  et  intelligcntiatn 
refertur. 

^Non  magis  arLe  traditur  quam  guslus  aiit  odor. 


Chap.  n.J  t)N  TASTE.  429 

"  perceived  by  a  latent  judgment  of  the  mind,  resembling 
"the  decision  of  the  palate."  "Quod  sentitur  latente 
"  judicio,  velut palatoJ''^  After  having  perceived  the  ana- 
logy so  distinctly,  it  is  somewhat  surprising,  that  the  very 
convenient  metaphor  which  it  seems  so  naturally  to  sug- 
gest, should  not  occur  in  any  of  their  writings. 

A  passage,  coinciding  still  more  explicitly  with  some 
of  the  foregoing  ideas,  occurs  in  the  Thccetetus  of  Plato. 
"  There  is  no  question"  (says  Socrates  in  this  Dialogue) 
'-'•  concerning  that  which  is  agreeable  to  each  person,  but 
*'  concerning  what  will,  in  time  to  come,  be  agreeable,  of 
"  which  all  men  are  not  equally  judges. — You  and  the 
*'  cook  may  judge  of  a  dish  on  the  table  equally  well;  but, 
"  while  the  dish  is  making,  the  cook  can  better  foietel 
"  what  will  ensue  from  this  or  that  manner  of  composing 
*'  it."*  How  exactly  does  this  coincide  with  that  remark- 
able expression  which  Lord  Chatham  applied  to  the  Taste 
displayed  in  landscape-gardening,  when  he  spoke  of  its 
prophetic  eye? 

The  metaphorical  use  made  of  the  word  Taste  in  the 
languages  of  modern  Europe,  is  perfectly  analogous  to 
various  other  expressions  transferred  to  the  Mind  from 
the  external  senses.  Such,  for  example,  is  the  word  Sa- 
gacity, borrowed  from  the  sense  of  smelling;  the  words 
Foresight,  Intuition,  and  many  others,  borrowed  from  the 
sense  of  seeing;  Acuteness  and  Penetration,  borrowed 
from  touch.  The  use  made  by  the  French,,  of  the  word 
tacty  is  a  circumstance  still  more  directly  in  point;  indeed 
so  much  so,  that  the  definition  given  of  it  by  some  of 
their  best  authors,  may  be  applied  very  nearly  to  Taste 

*  Plat.  Op.  Tom.  i.  p.  178. Edit.  Stephan. 


430  ON  TASTE.  [Essay  Hi- 

in  its  figurative  acceptation.  "  The  word  tacV^  (says  Rou- 
baud)  "  is  now,  in  general,  employed  to  express  a  de- 
"  cision  of  the  mind,  prompt,  subtle,  and  just;  a  decision 
"  which  seems  to  anticipate  the  slow  processes  of  reflec- 
"  tion  and  reasoning,  and  to  proceed  from  a  sort  of  in- 
''  stinctive  suggestion,  conducting  us  instantaneously  and 
"  unerringly  to  the  truth." 

The  chief  difference  in  the  meaning  of  these  two  words 
seems  to  me  to  consist  in  this, — that  Taste  presupposes 
a  certain  degree  of  original  susceptibility,  and  a  certain 
degree  of  relish,  stronger  or  weaker,  for  the  beauties  of 
nature;  whereas  the  word  tact  is  appropriated  to  things  in 
which  the  power  of  judging  is  w^holly  acquired;  as,  in 
distinguishing  the  hands  of  different  masters  in  painting, 
and  in  the  other  decisions  concerning  the  merits  of  artists 
which  fall  under  the  province  of  the  connoisseur.  It  is  ap- 
plied also  to  a  quick  perception  of  those  delicate  shades 
in  character  and  manners,  which  are  objects  of  study  to 
the  man  of  the  world.*  In  this  last  sense,  the  English 
proverbial  expression  o^  feeling  one^s  way,  seems  to  sup- 
pose such  a  power  as  the  French  denote  by  the  word  tact; 
and  has  probably  been  suggested  by  some  similar  asso- 
ciation. 

In  these  metaphorical  applications  of  the  word  tact,  the 
allusion  is  plainly  made  to  the  more  delicate  perceptions 
of  touch;  such,  for  instance,  as  those  which,  to  a  blind 
man,  supply  the  place  of  sight — in  a  manner  somewhat 
analogous  to  that  in  which  a  nice  tact  supersedes,  upon 
the  subjects  with  which  it  is  conversant,  the  exercise  of 
reasoning.    Perhaps,   too,   the  analogy  may  have  been 

*  Note  (O  o). 


e^iap.  II.]  ON  TASTE.  431 

Strengthened  by  the  astonishmg  perceptions  which,  in 
some  of  the  insect  tribes,  seem  to  enlarge  the  sphere  of 
this  sense,  far  beyond  its  ordinary  limits. 

"  The  spider's  touch,  how  exquisitely  fine, 

"  Feels  at  each  thread,  and  lives  along  the  line."  ' 

The  two  circumstances  which  I  have  chiefly  enlarged 
upon,  in  the  foregoing  observations  on  the  principle  of 
Taste,  are,  First,  its  power  of  analytical  discrimination  or 
discernment  in  the  examination  of  its  appropriate  objects; 
and  Secondly,  the  promptitude  with  which  its  decisions 
are  commonly  pronounced.  The  process  by  which  these 
characteristical  qualities  of  taste  are  gradually  formed, 
may  be  easily  conceived  from  some  remarks  which  I  have 
stated  in  the  Philosophy  of  the  Human  Mind,  when  treat- 
ing "  of  the  influence  of  casual  associations  on  our  specu- 
"  lative  conclusions." 

"  As  the  connections  among  physical  fevents"  (I  have 
there  observed)  "  are  discovered  to  us  by  experience 
"  alone,  it  is  evident  that,  when  we  see  a  phenomenon  pre- 
"  ceded  by  a  number  of  circumstances,  it  is  impossible 
*'  for  us  to  determine,  by  any  reasoning  a  priori,  which 
*'  of  these  circumstances  are  to  be  regarded  as  the  con- 
**  stantj  and  which  as  the  accidental  antecedents  of  the 
*'  eflfect.  If,  in  the  course  of  our  experience,  the  same 
"  combination  of  circumstances  is  always  exhibited  to 
"  us  without  any  alteration,  and  is  invariably  followed  by 
"  the  same  result,  we  must  for  ever  remain  ignorant, 
*'  whether  this  result  be  connected  with  the  whole  com- 
^'  bination,  or  with  one  or  more  of  the  circumstances 
*'  combined:  and  therefore,  if  we  are  anxious,  upon  any 


432  ON  TASTE.  [Emy  lU; 

*'  occasion,  to  produce  a  similar  effect,  the  only  rule  that 
"  we  can  follow  with  perfect  security,  is,  to  imitate,  in 
"  every  particular  circumstance,  the  combination  which 
"  we  have  seen.  It  is  only  where  we  have  opportunity  of 
"  separating  such  circumstances  from  each  other;  of  com- 
"  bining  them  variously  together,  and  of  observing  the 
"  effects  which  result  from  these  different  experiments, 
"  that  we  can  ascertain  with  precision,  the  general  laws 
"  of  nature,  and  strip  physical  causes  of  their  accidental 
"  and  unessential  concomitants." 

This  view  of  the  process  by  which  the  general  laws  of 
the  material  world  are  investigated,  I  have  endeavoured 
to  illustrate,  in  the  same  Section  of  my  book,  by  com- 
paring it  with  the  natural  progress  of  the  healing  art, 
from  the  superstitious  ceremonies  employed  among  sav- 
age tribes,  to  that  simplicity  of  practice  which  distin- 
guishes an  enlightened  and  philosophical  physician. 

In  the  Section  which  immediately  follows,  I  have  ob- 
served, that  the  substance  of  the  foregoing  quotation  is 
strictly  applicable  to  the  process,  by  which  the  principle 
of  Taste  is  formed  in  the  mind  of  an  individual.  "  That 
*'  certain  objects  are  fitted  to  give  pleasure,  and  others 
"  disgust,  to  the  mind,  we  know  from  experience  alone; 
"  and  it  is  impossible  for  us,  by  any  reasoning  a  priori^ 
'*  to  explain  how  the  pleasure  or  the  pain  is  produced.  In 
"  the  works  of  nature,  we  find,  in  many  instances,  the 
"  elements  of  beauty  involved  among  circumstances, 
*'  which  are  either  indifferent,  or  which  obstruct  the 
"  general  effect:  and  it  is  only  by  a  train  of  experiments 
*'  that  we  can  separate  these  circumstances  from  the  rest, 
"  and  ascertain  with  what  particular  qualities  the  pleasing 

2 


Ohap.  II.]  ON  TASTE.  433 

*'  effect  is  connected.  Accordingly,  the  inexperienced 
"  artist,  when  he  copies  nature,  will  copy  her  servilely, 
*'  that  he  may  be  certain  of  seeuring  the  pleasing  effect; 
"  and  the  beauties  of  his  performances  will  be  encum- 
''  bered  with  a  number  of  superfluous  or  of  disagreeable 
''  concomitants.  Experience  and  observation  alone  can 
"  enable  him  to  make  this  discrimination:  to  exhibit  the 
"  principles  of  beauty  pure  and  unadulterated,  and  to 
"  form  a  creation  of  his  own,  more  faultless  than  ever 
"fell  under  the  examination  of  his  senses." 

*'  This  analogy"  (I  have  added)  "  between  the  natural 
•'  progress  of  taste,  and  the  natural  progress  of  physical 
"  knowledge,  proceeds  on  the  supposition,  that,  as  in  the 
"  material  world  there  are  general  facts,  beyond  which 
"  philosophy  is  unable  to  proceed;  so,  in  the  constitution 
"  of  man,  there  is  an  inexplicable  adaptation  of  the  mind 
*'  to  the  objects  with  which  his  faculties  are  conversant; 
"  in  consequence  of  which,  these  objects  are  fitted  to  pro- 
"  duce  agreeable  or  disagreeable  emotions.  In  both  cases, 
*'  reasoning  may  be  employed  with  propriety  to  refer  par- 
"  ticular  phenomena  to  general  principles;  but  in  both 
"  cases,  we  must  at  last  arrive  at  principles  of  which  no 
"  account  can  be  given,  but  that  such  is  the  will  of  our 
"  Maker." 

Notwithstanding,  however,  the  strong  analogy  between 
the  two  cases,  there  are  some  important  circumstances  in 
which  they  differ  from  each  other.  One  of  these  was 
already  hinted  at,  when  I  remarked,  in  a  former  part  of 
this  discussion,  that  as,  in  our  experimental  researches 
concerning  the  laws  of  matter,  the  ultimate'  appeal  is 
always  made  to  our  external  senses,  so,  in  our  experi- 

31 


434  ON  1 ASTB.  [Esaay  III/ 

mental  researches  concerning  the  principles  of  beauty, 
the  ultimate  appeal  is  always  made  to  our  own  pleasant 
or  unpleasant  emotions.  In  conducting  these  last  experi- 
ments, we  cannot,  it  is  evident,  avail  ourselves  of  any 
thing  analogous  to  the  instrumental  aids  which  the  me- 
chanical arts  have  furnished  to  our  bodily  organs;  and 
tire  somewhat  in  the  same  situation  in  which  the  chemist 
would  be  placed,  if  he  had  nothing  to  appeal  to  in  his 
estimates  of  Heat,  but  the  test  of  his  own  sensations. 
The  only  expedient  we  can  have  recourse  to  for  supplying 
this  defect  is  to  repeat  our  experiments,  under  every  pos- 
sible variation  of  circumstances  by  which  the  state  and 
temper  of  our  minds  are  likely  to  be  affected;  and  to  com- 
pare  the  general  result  with  the  experience  of  others, 
whose  peculiar  habits  and  associations  are  the  most  dif- 
ferent from  our  own. 

On  the  other  hand,  it  is  of  great  importance  to  observe, 
that  if  the  circumstance  just  remarked  lays  us  under  some 
inconvenience  in  our  researches  concerning  the  princi- 
ples of  Beauty,  we  possess,  in  conducting  these,  the  sin- 
gular advantage  of  always  carrying  about  with  us  the 
materials  of  our  experiments.  In  the  infancy  of  Taste, 
indeed,  the  first  step  is  to  compare  object  with  object; — 
one  scene  with  another  scene;  one  picture  with  another 
picture;  one  poem  with  another  poem: — and,  at  all  times, 
such  comparisons  are  pleasing  and  instructive.  But  when 
the  mind  has  once  acquired  a  certain  familiarity  with  the 
beauties  of  Nature  and  of  Art,  much  may  be  effected,  in 
the  way  of  experiment,  by  the  power  of  Imagination 
alone.  Instead  of  waiting  to  compare  the  scene  now  be- 
fore me  with  another  scene  of  the  same  kind,  or  of  actu- 


Chap.  11.3  ON  TASTE.  435 

ally  trying  the  effects  resulting  from  the  various  changes 
of  which  its  parts  are  susceptible,  I  can  multiply  and  vary 
my  ideal  trials  at  will,  and  can  anticipate  from  my  own 
feelings,  in  these  different  cases,  the  improvement  or  the 
injury  that  would  result  from  carrying  them  into  execu- 
tion. The  fact  is  still  more  striking,  when  the  original 
combination  is  furnished  by  Imagination  herself,  and 
when  she  compounds  and  decompounds  it,  as  fancy  or 
curiosity  may  happen  to  dictate.  In  this  last  case,  the  ma- 
terials of  our  experiments,  the  instruments  employed  in 
our  analysis  or  synthesis,  and  the  laboratory  in  which  the 
whole  process  is  carried  on,  are  all  alike  intellectual. 
They  all  exist  in  the  observer's  mind;  and  are  all  suppli- 
ed, either  immediately  by  the  principles  of  his  nature,  or 
by  these  principles  cultivated  and  assisted  by  superin- 
duced habits. 

The  foregoing  comparison  is  not  the  less  just,  that  ex- 
perimental researches  concerning  the  principles  of  Beau- 
ty are  seldom  or  never  instituted  with  the  same  scientific- 
formality  as  in  chemistry  or  physics;  or,  that  the  mind  is, 
in  most  cases,  wholly  unconscious  that  such  experiments 
have  ever  been  made.  When  the  curiosity  is  once  fairly 
engaged  by  this  particular  class  of  objects,  a  series  of  in- 
tellectual experiments  is  from  that  moment  begun,  with- 
out any  guidance  from  the  rules  of  philosophizing.  Nor 
is  this  a  singular  fact  in  human  nature;  for  it  is  by  a  pro- 
cess perfectly  similar  (as  I  remarked  in  a  former  Essay), 
that  the  use  of  language  is  at  first  acquired.  It  is  by  hear- 
ing the  same  word  used,  on  a  variety  of  different  occa- 
sions, and  by  constant  attempts  to  investigate  some  com- 
mon meaning  which  shall  tally  with  them  all,  that  a  child 


436  ON  TASTE.  [Essay  III. 

comes  at  last  to  seize,  with  precision,  the  idea  which  the 
word  is  generally  employed  to  convey;  and  it  is  in  the 
same  manner  that  a  person  of  mature  understanding  is 
forced  to  proceed,  in  decyphering  the  signification  of 
particular  phrases,  when  he  studies,  without  the  help  of 
a  dictionary,  a  language  of  which  he  possesses  but  a  slight 
and  inaccurate  knowledge.  There  is  here  carried  on,  in 
the  mind  of  the  child,  a  process  of  natural  induction^  on 
the  same  general  principles  which  are  recommended  in 
Bacon's  philosophy:  and  such  exactly  do  I  conceive  the 
process  to  be,  by  which  the  power  of  Taste  acquires,  in- 
sensibly, in  the  course  of  a  long  and  varied  experience, 
a  perception  of  the  general  principles  of  Beauty. 

The  accoimt  which  has  now  been  given  of  the  habits 
of  observation  and  comparison,  by  which  Taste  acquires 
its  powers  of  discriminatioji  or  discernment^  explains,  at 
the  same  time,  iht  promptitude  with  which  its  judgments 
are  commonly  pronounced.  As  the  experiments  subser- 
vient to  its  formation  are  carried  on  entirely  in  the  mind 
itself,  they  present,  every  moment,  a  ready  field  for  the 
gratification  of  curiosity;  and  in  those  individuals  whose 
thoughts  are  strongly  turned  to  the  pursuit,  they  fur- 
nish matter  of  habitual  employment  to  the  intellectual 
faculties.  These  experiments  are,  at  the  same  time,  exe- 
cuted with  an  ease  and  celerity  unknown  in  our  operations 
on  Matter;  insomuch,  that  the  experiment  and  its  result, 
seem  both  to  be  comprehended  in  the  same  instant  of 
time.  The  process,  accordingly,  vanishes  completely 
from  our  recollection;  nor  do  we  attempt  to  retrace  it  to 
ourselves  in  thought^  far  less  to  express  it  to  others  in 
words,  any  more  than  we  are  disposed,  in  our  common 


Chap,  n.]  ON  TASTE.  437 

estimates  of  distance,  to  analyse  the  acquired  perceptions 
of  vision. 

In  the  experimental  proceedings  of  Taste,  another  cir- 
cumstance conspires  to  prevent  such  an  analysis;  I  mean, 
the  tendency  of  the  pleasurable  effect  to  engross,  or  at  least 
to  distract  the  attention.  I  took  notice,  in  the  work  last 
quoted,  of  "  the  peculiar  difficulty  of  arresting  and  detect- 
"  ing  our  fleeting  ideas,  in  cases  where  they  lead  to  any 
"  interesting  conclusion,  or  excite  any  pleasant  emotion;" 
and  I  mentioned,  as  the  obvious  reason  of  this  difficulty, 
that  "  the  mind,  when  once  it  has  enjoyed  the  pleasure, 
"  has  little  inclination  to  retrace  the  steps  by  which  it  ar- 
^'  rived  at  it."  I  have  added,  in  the  same  place,  that  "  this 
"  last  circumstance  is  one  great  cause  of  the  difficulty  at- 
"  tending  philosophical  criticism."* 

In  order  to  illustrate  the  full  import  of  this  remark,  it  is 
necessary  for  me  to  observe,  that  when  any  dispute  occurs 
in  which  Taste  is  concerned,  the  only  possible  way  of 
bringing  the  parties  to  an  agreement,  is  by  appealing  to  an 
induction  similar  to  that  by  which  the  judging  powers  of 
taste  are  insensibly  formed;  or  by  appealing  to  certain  ac- 
knowledged principles  which  critics  have  already  investi- 
gated by  such  an  induction.  Indeed  it  is  in  this  way  alone, 
that  any  general  conclusions,  in  matters  of  this  sort,  can  be 
ascertained.  The  difference  which  has  been  so  much  insist- 
ed on  by  some  writers,  between  philosophical  criticism, 
and  that  which  they  have  been  pleased  to  call  experimental, 
or  tentative,  turns  entirely  on  the  greater  or  less  generality 
of  the  principles  to  which  the  appeal  is  made.  Where  the 

*  Philosophy  of  the  Human  Mind,  Chap.  ii. 


438  ON  TASTE  fEssay  111. 

tentative  critic  contents  himself  with  an  accumulation  of 
parallel  passages  and  of  critical  authorities,  the  philosopher 
appeals  to  the  acknowledged  sources  of  pleasure  in  the 
constitution  of  human  nature.  But  these  sources  were  at 
first  investigated  by  experiment  and  induction,  no  less 
than  the  rules  which  are  deduced  from  an  examination  of 
the  beauties  of  Homer  and  of  Virgil;  or,  to  speak  more 
correctly,  it  is  the  former  alone  that  are  ascertained  by 
induction,  properly  so  called;  while  the  others  often 
amount  to  little  more  than  the  statements  of  an  empirical 
and  unenlightened  experience. 

A  dispute  somewhat  analogous  to  this  might  be  con- 
ceived to  arise  about  the  comparative  distances  of  two 
different  objects  from  a  particular  spot  (about  the  dis- 
tances, I  shall  suppose,  of  two  large  and  spreading  Oaks); 
each  party  insisting  confidently  on  the  evidence  of  his 
senses,  in  support  of  his  own  judgment.  How  is  it  pos- 
sible to  bring  them  to  an  agreement,  but  by  appealing  to 
those  very  circumstances,  or  signs,  upon  which  all  our 
perceptions  of  distance  proceed,  even  when  we  are  the 
least  aware  of  any  exercise  of  thought?  If  the  one  party 
should  observe,  for  instance,  to  his  companion,  that  the 
minute  parts  of  the  tree,  which  the  latter  affirms  to  be 
the  most  remote, — that  its  smaller  ramifications,  its  foli- 
age, and  the  texture  of  its  bark,  are  seen  much  more  dis- 
tinctly than  the  corresponding  parts  of  the  other;  he  could 
not  fiiil  in  immediately  convincing  him  of  the  inaccuracy 
of  his  estimate.  In  like  manner,  the  philosophical  princi- 
ples of  criticism,  when  obtained  by  an  extensive  and 
cautious  induction,  may  be  fairly  appealed  to  in  questions 
of  taste;  although  Taste  itself,  considered  as  a  power  of 


Chap.  U.3  ON  TASTE.  439 

the  mind,  must,  in  every  individual,  be  the  result  of  his 
own  personal  experience;  no  less  than  the  acquired  povi^ers 
of  perception  by  which  his  eye  estimates  the  distances 
and  magnitudes  of  objects.  In  this  point  of  view,  there- 
fore, we  may  apply  literally  to  intellectual  taste,  the  as- 
sertion formerly  quoted  from  Quinctilian:  "  Non  magis 
"  arte  traditur  quam  gustus  aut  odor." 

I  must  not  conclude  this  branch  of  my  subject  without 
doing  justice  to  some  authors  who  appear  to  have  enter- 
tained perfectly  just  and  correct  ideas  concerning  the  na- 
ture of  Taste,  as  an  acquired  principle y  although  none  of 
them,  as  far  as  I  know,  has  at  all  examined  the  process 
by  which  it  is  generated.  The  first  author  I  shall  quote  is 
Sir  Joshua  Reynolds,  whose  sagacity  often  seizes  happily 
on  the  truth,  without  the  formality  of  logical  deduction. 
"  The  real  substance"  (he  observes)  "  of  what  goes  under 
"  the  name  of  taste,  is  fixed  and  established  in  the  nature 
*'  of  things.  There  are  certain  and  regular  causes  by 
**  which  the  imagination  and  the  passions  of  men  are 
"  affected;  and  the  knowledge  of  these  causes  is  acquired 
"  by  a  laborious  and  diligent  investigation  of  nature,  and 
"  by  the  same  slow  progress,  as  wisdom  or  knowledge  of 
"  every  kind,  however  instantaneous  its  operations  may 
*'  appear,  when  thus  acquired." 

Mr.  Burke  has  stated  still  more  explicitly  his  dissent 
from  the  opinion,  that  "  taste  is  a  separate  faculty  of  the 
"  mind,  and  distinct  from  the  judgment  and  imagination; 
**  a  species  of  instinct,  by  which  we  are  struck  naturally, 
*'  and  at  the  first  glance,  without  any  previous  reasoning, 
"  with  the  excellencies,  or  the  defects  of  a  composition." 
— -"  So  far"  (he  continues)  "as  the  imagination  and  the 


440  ON  TASTE.  [Essay  III. 

"  passions  are  concerned,  I  believe  it  true,  that  the  reason 
"  is  little  consulted;  but  where  disposition,  where  deco- 
"  rum,  where  congruity,  are  concerned,  in  short,  wher- 
"  ever  the  best  taste  differs  from  the  worst,  I  am  convin- 
''  ced  that  the  understanding  operates,  and  nothing  else; 
"  and  its  operation  is  in  reality  far  from  being  always 
"  sudden,  or,  when  it  is  sudden,  it  is  often  far  from  being 
"  right.  Men  of  the  best  taste,  by  consideration,  come 
*'  frequently  to  change  those  early  and  precipitate  judg- 
"  ments,  which  the  mind,  from  its  aversion  to  neutrality 
"  and  doubt,  loves  to  form  on  the  spot.  It  is  kno^vn  that 
"  the  taste  (whatever  it  is)  is  improved  exactly  as  we  im- 
"  prove  our  judgment,  by  extending  our  knowledge,  by 
"  a  steady  attention  to  our  object,  and  by  frequent  exer- 
"  cise.  They  who  have  not  taken  these  methods,  if  their 
"  taste  decides  quickly,  it  is  always  uncertainly;  and  their 
"  quickness  is  owing  to  their  presumption  and^rashness, 
"  and  not  any  hidden  irradiation  that  in  a  moment  dispels 
"  all  darkness  from  their  minds.  But  they  who  have  cul- 
"  tivated  that  species  of  knowledge  which  makes  the 
*'  object  of  taste,  by  degrees,  and  habitually,  attain  not 
"  only  a  soundness,  but  a  readiness  of  judgment,  aS  men 
"  do  by  the  same  methods  on  all  other  occasions.  At  first 
"  they  are  obliged  to  spell,  but  at  last  they  read  with  ease 
"  and  with  celerity;  but  this  celerity  of  its  operation  is  no 
*'  proof  that  the  taste  is  a  distinct  faculty.  Nobody,  I  be- 
*'  lieve,  has  attended  the  course  of  a  discussion,  which 
"  turned  upon  matter  within  the  sphere  of  mere  naked 
"  reason,  but  must  have  observed  the  extreme  readiness 
"  with  which  the  whole  process  of  the  argument  is  carried 
"  on,  the  grounds  discovered,  the  objections  raised  and 

2 


Chap.  U.3  ftN  TASTE.  441 

"  answered,  and  the  conclusions  drawn  from  premises, 
**  with  a  quickness  altogether  as  great  as  the  taste  can  be 
"  supposed  to  work  withj  and  yet  where  nothing  but  plain 
"  reason  either  is,  or  can  be  suspected  to  operate.  To 
"  multiply  principles  for  every  different  appearance  is  use- 
**  less,  and  unphilosophical  too,  in  a  high  degree." 

The  only  other  passage  I  shall  add  to  these  quotations 
is  from  Mr.  Hughes,  who,  almost  a  century  ago,  describ- 
ed the  nature  and  gefiesis  of  taste,  with  admirable  good 
sense,  and  conciseness,  in  the  following  terms:  "  What  we 
"  call  Taste,  is  ak'ind  of  exte?npore  iudgm.&nt;  it  is  a  sct- 
*'  tied  habit  of  distinguishing,  without  staying  to  attend  to 
"  rules  or  ratiocination,  and  arises  from  long  use  and  ex- 
"  perience." 


I  intend  to  resume,  on  some  future  occasion,  the  sub^ 
ject  of  this  Chapter,  and  to  illustrate  that  progress  of  Taste 
from  rudeness  to  refinement,  which  accompanies  the  ad- 
vancement of  social  civilization.  In  this  respect  its  history 
will  be  found  to  be  somewhat  analogous  to  that  of  human 
reason;  the  taste  of  each  successive  age  being  formed  on 
the  study  of  more  perfect  models  than  that  of  the  age  be- 
fore it;  and  leaving,  in  its  turn,  to  after  times  a  more  ele- 
vated ground- work,  on  which  they  may  raise  their  own 
superstructure. 

This  traditionary  Taste  (imbibed  in  early  life,  parti}- 
from  the  received  rules  of  critics,  and  partly  from  the 
study  of  approved  models  of  excellence)  is  all  that  the 
bulk  of  men  aspire  to,  and  perhaps  all  that  they  are  quali- 

3K 


442  ON  TASTE.  [Essay  IK. 

iied  to  acquire.  But  it  is  the  province  of  a  leading  nwid  to 
outstrip  its  contemporaries,  by  instituting  new  experi- 
ments for  its  own  improvement;  and,  in  proportion  as  the 
observation  and  experience  of  the  race  are  enlarged,  the 
means  are  facilitated  of  accomplishing  such  combinations 
with  success,  by  the  multiplication  of  those  selected  ma- 
terials out  of  which  they  are  to  be  formed. 

In  individuals  of  this  description,  Taste  inckides  Ge- 
nius as  one  of  its  elements;  as  Genius,  in  any  one  of  the 
fine  arts,  necessarily  implies  a  certain  portion  of  Taste. 
In  both  cases,  precepts  and  models,  although  of  inesti- 
mable value,  leave  much  to  be  done  by  an  inventive  im- 
agination. 

In  the  mind  of  a  man  who  feels  and  judges  for  himself, 
a  large  proportion  of  the  rules  which  guide  his  decisions 
exist  only  in  his  own  understanding.  Many  of  them  he 
probably  never  thought  of  clothing  with  language  even 
to  himself;  and  some  of  them  would  certainly,  if  he  should 
attempt  to  embody  them  in  words,  elude  all  his  efforts  to 
convey  their  import  to  others. 

"  What  we  call  genius^^  (says  Reynolds)  "  begins,  not 
"  where  rules,  abstractedly  taken,  end;  but  where  known, 
"  vulgar,  and  trite  rules  have  no  longer  any  place." — 
"  It  is  true,  these  refined  principles  cannot  be  always 
"  made  palpable,  like  the  more  gross  rules  of  art;  yet  it 
"  does  not  follow,  but  that  the  mind  may  be  put  in  such 
*'  a  train,  that  it  shall  perceive,  by  a  kind  of  scientific 
"  sense,  that  propriety,  which  words  can  but  very  feebly 
"  suggest." 

All  this  will  be  found  to  apply  literally  to  original  or 
inventive  Taste,  and  to  suggest  matter  for  very  curious 


Qhap.  H.J  ON  TASTE.  443 

and  useful  reflection. — But  some  other  views  of  this  power 
appear  to  me  to  form  a  more  natural  sequel  to  the  fore- 
going observations;  and  to  these  accordingly,  I  shall  con- 
fine myself  at  present,  in  the  farther  prosecution  of  the 
subject  of  this  Essay. 


U4  o>*  tAStfi.  :E£s»y  m. 


CHAPTER  THIRD. 

DIFFERENT  MODIFICATIONS  OF  TASTE.— DISTINCTION  BETWEEN 
TASTE,  AND  THE  NATURAL   SENSIBILITY  TO  BEAUTY. 

Jb  ROM  the  account  formerly  given  of  the  origin  and 
progress  of  our  notions  with  respect  to  the  Beautiful,  it 
appeared,  that  the  circumstances  which  please  in  objects 
of  Taste,  are  of  two  very  different  kinds.  First,  those 
which  derive  their  effect  from  the  organical  adaptation  of 
the  human  frame  to  the  external  universe;  and  Secondly, 
those  which  please  in  consequence  of  associations  formed 
gradually  4Dy  experience.  Among  the  various  particulars 
belonging  to  this  second  cla.ss  (a  class  which  comprehends 
by  far  the  most  important  elements  which,  in  such  an  age 
as  ours,  enter  into  the  composition  of  the  beautiful)  a 
very  obvious  distinction  may  be  made.  (1.)  Such  beau- 
ties as  owe  their  existence  to  associations  resulting  ne- 
cessarily from  the  common  circumstances  of  the  human 
race;  and  therefore  extending  their  influence,  more  or 
less,  to  all  mankind.  Examples  of  these  universal  associ- 
ations occur  in  the  uniformity  of  language  (remarked  in 
the  two  preceding  Essays)  among  various  civilized  na- 
tions, in  speaking  of  Beaut}- and  of  Sublimity.  (2.)  Beau- 
ties v/hich  have  no  merit  but  what  depends  on  custom 


i 


Chap.  1»]  (m  TASTE.  445 

and  fashion;  or  on  certain  peculiarities  in  the  situation 
and  history  of  the  individQal.  Of  the  two  last  descrip- 
tions of  beauty,  the  former,  it  is  evident,  agree  in  one! 
very  essential  respect,  with  the  organical  beauties  first 
mentidned.  Both  of  them  have  their  source  in  the  princi- 
ples of  Human  Nature  (comprehending,  under  this  phrase^ 
not  only  the  natural  constitution,  but  the  natural  condition 
of  man);  and,  accordingly,  they  both  fall  under  the  con- 
sideration of  that  sort  of  criticism  which  forms  a  branch 
of  the  philosophy  of  the  human  mind.^  The  associations 
on  which  they  are  founded,  have  equally  a  claim  to  a 
place  among  the  elements  of  the  Beautiful;  nor  can  any 
theory  of  Beauty  be  admitted  as  sufficiently  comprehen- 
sive, in  which  either  the  one  or  the  other  is  overlooked. 
As  2m  illustration  of  this,  I  shall  mention  only  Mr. 
Burke's  theory,  which  excludes  from  the  idea  of  Beauty 
all  considerations  of  proportion,  fitness,  and  utility.  In  or- 
der to  justify  such  exclusions  as  these,  it  surely  is  not 
sufficient  to  shew,  that  the  qualities  just  mentioned  cannot 
be  brought  under  a  particular  and  arbitrary  definition. 
The  question  for  the  philosopher  to  consider  is,  what  has 
led  mankind,  in  ancient  as  well  as  in  modern  times,  to 
class  together  these,  and  a  variety  of  other  qualities,  un- 
der one  common  name;  and  frequently  to  employ  the  name 
of  some  one  of  them  to  comprehend  the  whole?  A  pas- 
sage formerly  quoted  from  Cicero  affiards  an  instance  in 
point:  "  Itaque  eorum  ipsorum,  quie  adspectu  seniiuntur, 
"  nullum  aliud  animal  pulchritudinem,  venustatem,  con- 
'*  venientiam  partium  sentit;  quam  similitudinem  natura 
"  ratioque  ab  oculis  ad  animum  transferens,  multo  etiani 
"  magis  pulchritudinem,  constantiam,  ordinem  in  con- 


446  ON  TASTE.  [Essay  IH. 

"  siliis  factisque  conservandum  putat,"  &c.  &c. — '*  For- 
"  mam  quidem  ipsani,  Marce  fili,  et  tanquam  faciem  Ho- 
*'  nesti  vides;  quae,  si  oculis  cerncretur,  mirabiles  amores 
"  (ut  ait  Plato)  excitaret  sapientias." 

In  favour  of  Mr.  Burke's  opinion,  it  must  indeed  be 
admitted,  that  those  systems  are  completely  erroneous, 
which  would  resolve  the  whole  of  Beauty  into  any  one  of 
the  three  qualities  which  he  excludes  from  the  idea  of  it, 
or  even  into  all  the  three  combined,  without  the  coopera- 
tion of  any  thing  else.  But  it  is  going,  at  least,  as  far  into 
the  opposite  extreme,  to  say  that  none  of  these  is  entitled 
to  a  place  among  the  elements  which  can  possibly  belong 
to  its  composition.* 

According  to  this  view  of  the  subject,  it  would  be 
quite  unnecessary  to  distinguish,  in  our  subsequent  rea- 
sonings, that  species  of  beauty  which  results  from  the 
physical  relation  between  our  organs  of  perception  and 
external  objects,  from  that  which  depends  on  natural  and 
universal  associations;  and  I  shall  therefore  apply  to  them 
the  common  appellation  of  Universal  Beauties,  in  opposi- 
tion to  those  Arbitrary  Beauties,  the  admiration  of  which 
has  been  confined  to  particular  places,  or  to  particular 
periods. 

Among  the  associations,  however,  on  which  these  arbi- 
trar)'  beauties  depend,  there  are  some  varieties,  of  which 
it  may  be  proper  to  take  notice,  before  we  proceed  to  con- 
sider the  various  appearances  which  Taste  may  assume 
in  different  minds.  The  following  list  seems  to  compre- 
hend those  which  are  chiefly  entitled  to  our  attention. 

*  Note  (P  p). 


Chap.UI.3  eN  TASTE.  447 

1.  Classical  Associations: — Inspired  by  the  remains  of 
ancient  Greece  and  Rome;  and,  of  course,  extending  to 
all  who  receive  the  advantages  of  a  learned  education  in 
every  quarter  of  the  civilized  world.  The  authority  of 
these  is,  in  all  cases,  great;  and,  in  some  cases,  (particu- 
larly in  sculpture  and  in  architecture)  is  now  so  conse- 
crated by  established  opinion,  as  almost  to  preclude  all 
criticism  or  discussion.  In  poetry,  also,  they  have  added 
immensely  to  our  natural  resources,  particularly  by  the 
beautiful  system  of  mythology  with  which  they  are  inter- 
woven;— but  they  have,  at  the  same  time,  warped  our 
Taste  in  various  instances;  and  have  certainly  no  claims 
to  our  servile  imitation,  where  they  happen  to  deviate 
from  the  standard  of  nature.  In  every  instance  where 
there  is  no  such  deviation,  their  authority  seems  justly 
entitled  to  the  next  place  (but  a  very  subordinate  place) 
after  those  associations  which  belong  universally  to  our 
species.  It  must  not,  however,  be  imagined,  that,  in  any 
instance,  they  furnish  us  with  principles  from  which  there 
lies  no  appeal;  nor  should  it  be  forgotten,  that  their  influ- 
ence does  not  reach  to  the  most  numerous  class  of  the 
people,  in  the  most  refined  societies. 

2.  National  or  local  Associations. — Where  these  are 
not  widely  at  variance  with  universal  associations,  they 
exert  over  the  heart  a  power  greater  perhaps  than  that  of 
any  other  associations  whatsoever;  and  sometimes  (as 
seems  to  have  happened  in  the  case  of  most  French  critics) 
they  acquire  an  ascendant  even  over  the  impressions  of 
Nature  herself.  But  this  influence  being  confined  neces- 
sarily within  the  national  pale  (however  ample  the  re- 
sources are  which  it  furnishes  for  local  and  fugitive 


448  ON  TASTE.  [Essay  UI. 

Poetry),  is  much  more  likely  to  mislead  than  to  guide  our 
researches  concerning  the  principles  of  philosophical 
criticism. 

3.  Personal  Associations: — Such  as  those  which  arise 
from  the  accidental  style  of  jnatural  beauty  in  the  spot 
where  we  have  passed  our  childhood  and  early  youth; 
from  the  peculiarities  in  the  features  of  those  whom  we 
have  loved;  and  other  circumstances  connected  with  our 
own  individual  feelings.  Of  these  it  is  necessary  that  every 
man,  who  aspires  to  please  or  to  instruct  others,  should 
divest  himself  to  the  utmost  of  his  power;  or,  at  least, 
that  he  should  guard  against  their  undue  ascendant  over 
his  mind,  when  he  exercises  either  his  Imagination  or  his 
Taste,  in  works  addressed  to  the  public. 

Under  this  head,  I  must  not  omit  to  mention  the  influ- 
ence of  vanity  and  selfishness  on  the  judgments  of  some 
men,  even  concerning  the  beauties  of  nature; — the  inter- 
est which  the  attachment  to  property  creates,  rendering 
them  alive  to  every  trifling  recommendation  belonging  to 
what  is  their  own,  while  it  blinds  them  to  the  most  pro- 
minent beauties  in  the  property  of  their  neighbours.  Cres- 
set has  seized  happily  this  intellectual  and  moral  weakness, 
in  his  charming  comedy  of  the  Mediant.  But,  as  it  is 
more  connected  with  the  study  of  Character,  than  with 
that  of  Philosophical  Criticism,  I  shall  not  enlarge  upon 
it  farther  at  present. 

Corresponding  to  the  distinction  which  I  have  been  at- 
tempting to  illustrate  between  Universal  and  Arbitrary 
Beauties,  there  are  two  diflerent  modifications  of  Taste; 
modifications  which  are  not  always  united,  (perhaps  seldom 
imited)  in  the  same  person.  Tlie  one  enables  a  writer  or 

2 


Chap.  Ill]  ON  TASTE.  449 

an  artist  to  rise  superior  to  the  times  in  which  he  lives, 
and  emboldens  him  to  trust  his  reputation  to  the  suffrages 
of  the  human  race,  and  of  the  ages  which  are  yet  to  come. 
The  other  is  the  foundation  of  that  humbler,  though  more 
profitable  sagacity,  which  teaches  the  possessor  how  to 
suit  his  manufactures  to  the  market;  to  judge  before-hand 
of  the  reception  which  any  new  production  is  to  meet 
with,  and  to  regulate  his  exertions  accordingly.  The  one 
must  be  cultivated  by  those  habits  of  abstraction  and 
study,  which,  withdrawing  the  thoughts  from  the  unmean- 
ing particularities  of  individual  perception,  and  the  capri- 
cious drapery  of  conventional  manners,  familiarize  the 
mind  to  the  general  forms  of  beautiful  nature;  or  to  beau- 
ties which  the  classical  genius  of  antiquity  has  copied 
from  these^  and  which,  like  these^  are  unfading  and  im- 
mortal. The  proper  sphere  of  the  other  is  such  a  capital 
as  London  or  Paris.  It  is  there  that  the  judges  are  to  be 
found  from  whose  decision  it  acknowledges  no  appeal; 
and  it  is  in  such  a  situation  alone,  that  it  can  be  cultivated 
with  advantage.  Dr.  Johnson  has  well  described  (in  a  pro- 
logue spoken  by  Garrick,  when  he  first  opened  the  theatre 
at  Drury-Lane)  the  trifling  solicitudes  and  the  ever- vary- 
ing attentions  to  which  those  are  doomed,  who  submit  thus 
to  be  the  ministers  and  slaves  of  public  folly; 

"  Hard  is  his  fate,  who  here,  by  fortune  plac'd, 
"  Must  watch  the  wild  vicissitudes  of  Tastej 
"  With  every  meteor  of  caprice  must  play, 
"  And  catch  the  new-blown  bubbles  of  the  day." 

The  ground-work  of  this  last  species  of  Taste  (if  it  de- 
serves the  name)  is  a  certain  facility  of  association^  ac- 

3L 


450  ON  TASTE  LEssaylll. 

quired  by  early  and  constant  intercourse  with  society; 
more  particularly,  with  those  classes  of  society  who  are 
looked  up  to  as  supreme  legislators  in  matters  of  fashion; 
a  habit  of  mind,  the  tendency  of  which  is  to  render  the 
sense  of  the  Beautiful  (as  well  as  the  sense  of  what  is 
Right  and  Wrong)  easily  susceptible  of  modification 
from  the  contagion  of  example.  It  is  a  habit  by  no  means 
inconsistent  with  a  certain  degree  of  original  sensibility; 
nay,  it  requires,  perhaps,  some  original  sensibility  as  its 
basis:  but  this  sensibility,  in  consequence  of  the  habit 
which  it  has  itself  contributed  to  establish,  soon  becomes 
transient  and  useless;  losing  all  connection  with  Reason 
and  the  Moral  Principles,  and  alive  only  to  such  impres- 
sions as  fashion  recognizes  and  sanctions.  The  other  spe- 
cies of  Taste,  founded  on  the  study  of  Universal  Beauty 
(and  which,  for  the  sake  of  distinction,  I  shall  call  Phi- 
losophical Taste)  implies  a  sensibility,  deep  and  perma- 
nent to  those  objects  of  atfection,  admiration,  and  reve- 
rence, which  interested  the  youthful  heart,  while  yet  a 
stranger  to  the  opinions  and  ways  of  the  world.  Its  most 
distinguishing  characteristics,  accordingly,  are  strong  do- 
mestic and  local  attachments,  accompanied  with  that  en- 
thusiastic love  of  Nature,  Simplicity,  and  Truth,  which, 
in  every  department,  both  of  art  and  of  science,  is  the 
best  and  surest  presage  of  Genius.  It  is  this  sensibility 
that  gives  rise  to  the  habits  of  attentive  observation  by 
which  such  a  Taste  can  alone  be  formed;  and  it  is  this 
also  that,  binding  and  perpetuating  the  associations  which 
such  a  Taste  supposes,  fortifies  the  mind  against  the 
fleeting  caprices  which  the  votaries  of  fashion  watch  and 
obey. 


«hap.m.]  ON  TASTE.  451 

In  the  farther  prosecution  of  this  subject,  as  well  as  in 
the  former  part  of  this  Essay,  my  observations  must  be 
understood  as  referring  chiefly  to  that  sort  of  Taste  which 
I  have  now  distinguished  by  the  epithet  philosophical.  It 
may,  at  the  same  time,  be  proper  to  remark,  that  a  great 
part  of  these  observations,  particularly  those  which  I  have 
already  made  on  the  process  by  which  Taste  acquires  its 
discrimination  and  its />ro;72/>?f?z/f/6' of  perception,  are  appli- 
cable, with  some  slight  alterations,  to  that  which  has  foi* 
its  object  local  and  temporary  modes,  no  less  than  to  the 
other,  which  is  acquired  by  the  study  of  universal 
beauty. 

The  two  distinguishing  characteristics  of  Good  Taste 
(it  has  been  justly  observed  by  different  writers)  are  cor- 
rectness and  delicacy;  the  former  having  for  its  province 
the  detection  of  Blemishes,  the  latter  the  perception  of 
those  more  refined  Beauties  which  cultivated  minds  alone 
can  feel.  This  distinction  has  been  illustrated  (and  I  think 
not  unhappily)  by  the  general  complexion  of  Swift's  cri- 
ticisms contrasted  with  that  of  Addison's. — Of  that 
quality  more  particularly,  which  is  properly  called  deli- 
cacy oftaste^  no  better  exemplifications  can  any  where  be 
found,  than  occur  in  some  of  the  critical  papers  on  Paradise 
Lost,  published  in  the  Spectator. — Where  this  intellectual 
power  exists  in  its  most  perfect  state,  both  these  qualities 
are  necessarily  implied. 

It  was  remarked,  in  the  beginning  of  these  inquiries, 
concerning  Taste,  that  although  it  presupposes  a  certain 
degree  of  sensibility,  yet  it  is  not  by  men  whose  sensibility 
is  most  exquisite,  that  it  is  commonly  cultivated  with  the 


452  ON  TASTE  [Essay  HI. 

greatest  success.  One  principal  reason  of  this  seems  to  be, 
that  ill  such  men,  the  pleasures  which  they  receive  from 
beautiful  objects,  engross  the  attention  too  much  to  allow 
the  judgment  to  operate  coolly;  and  the  mind  is  disposed 
to  dwell  passively  on  its  own  enjoyment,  without  indulging 
a  speculative  curiosity  in  analysing  its  sources.  In  all  our 
perceptions,  from  the  grossest  to  the  most  refined,  the  at- 
tention is  directed  to  the  effect  or  to  the  cause,  according 
to  the  vivacity  or  to  the  faintness  of  the  sensation.  "  If  I 
"  lay  my  hand"  (says  Dr.  Reid)  "  gently  on  the  table, 
*'  and  am  asked  what  I  feel,  I  naturally  answer,  that  / 
^^  feel  the  tahle;  if  I  strike  it  against  the  same  object  with 
"  such  violence  as  to  receive  a  painful  sensation  from  the 
"  blow,  I  as  naturally  answer  the  same  question,  by  say- 
*' ing,  that  I  feel  pain  in  my  Jmnd.'*''  A  similar  observation 
may  be  applied  to  the  pleasures  which  are  derived  from 
objects  of  Taste.  Where  these  pleasures  rise  to  ecstasy, 
they  produce  a  state  of  vague  enthusiasm  and  rapture, 
in  which  our  reasoning  faculties  have  little  share :  where 
they  are  more  moderate  and  sober,  they  rouse  the  curi- 
osity, like  other  physical  effects;  and  create  insensibly 
those  habits  of  observation,  of  comparison,  and  of  intel- 
lectual experiment,  of  which  I  have  endeavoured  to  shew, 
in  the  last  Chapter,  that  the  power  of  Taste  is  the  gra- 
dual and  slow  result. 

In  proportion,  too,  as  the  temper  of  the  mind  inclines 
to  extreme  sensibility,  the  casual  associations  of  the  in- 
dividual may  be  expected  to  be  numerous  and  lasting; 
for  nothing  tends  so  powerfully  to  bind  the  associating 
tie,  as  the  circumstance  of  its  being  originally  formed, 
when  the  mind  was  strongly  agitated  by  pleasure  or  by 


Chap,  ni]  ON  TASTE.  455 

pain.  In  recollecting  any  particular  occurrence,  whether 
prosperous  or  adverse,  of  our  past  lives,  by  which  we 
were  deeply  affected  at  the  moment, — how  indelible  do 
we  find  the  impression  left  on  the  memory,  by  the  most 
trifling  and  accidental  details  which  distinguished  the 
never-to-be-forgotten  day  on  which  it  happened;  and  how 
apt  are  similar  details,  if  at  any  time  they  should  present 
themselves  in  somewhat  of  the  same  combination,  to  in- 
spire us  with  gaiety  or  with  sadness,  according  to  the 
complexion  of  the  event  with  which  they  are  associated! 
It  is  in  the  same  way,  that,  to  a  mind  tremblingly  alive 
to  impressions  of  beauty,  a  charm  is  communicated  to 
whatever  accessories  or  appendages  happen  to  invest 
any  object  of  its  admiration;  accessories  which  are  likely 
to  leave  a  far  less  permanent  trace  in  the  memory  of  a 
more  indifferent  spectator.  The  consequence  will  be,  that 
in  a  person  of  the  former  temper,  the  cultivation  of  a 
correct  taste  will  be  a  much  more  difficult  task  than  in 
one  of  the  latter,  and  a  proportionally  greater  attention 
will  be  requisite,  on  the  part  of  his  instructors,  to  confine 
his  habitual  studies  to  the  most  faultless  models. 

Of  the  caprices  and  singularities  of  judgment  to  which 
all  men  are  more  or  less  liable  from  causes  of  this  sort, 
but  which  arc  more  peculiarly  incident  to  men  of  very 
warm  and  lively  feelings,  no  better  illustration  can  be 
given  than  a  noted  fact,  which  Des  Cartes  mentions  with 
respect  to  himself,  in  one  of  his  letters.  "  During  the 
"  whole  of  his  life,"  (this  philosopher  tells  us)  "  he  had  a 
"  partiality  for  persons  who  squinted;"  and  he  adds,  that 
**  in  his  endeavour  to  trace  the  cause  of  a  taste  apparently 


454  ON  TASTE.  [Essay  III. 

"  SO  whimsical,  he  at  last  recollected,  that  when  a  boy, 
"he  had  been  fond  of  a  girl  who  had  that  blemish." 
"  The  affection  he  had  for  this  object  of  his  first  love," 
(says  Malebranche)  "  seems  to  have  diffused  itself  to  all 
'*  others  who  any  Avay  resembled  her."  Hence  the  dispo- 
sition which  young  and  susceptible  minds  discover  so 
frequently,  to  copy  the  peculiarities  in  dress,  pronuncia- 
tion and  manner,  of  those  they  admire  or  are  attached  to; 
the  agreeable  impressions  associated  in  their  fancy  with 
every  thing  which  marks  the  individual  the  most  strongly 
to  the  eye  or  the  ear,  leading  them  to  conclude  very  rashly, 
that,  by  an  imitation  of  circumstances  which  are  to  them- 
selves so  characteristical  and  expressive,  they  cannot  fail 
to  secure  a  similar  charm  to  their  own  exterior.  Among 
the  ancients,  we  are  told  by  Plutarch,  there  were  many 
who  imitated  the  stuttering  of  Aristotle,  and  the  wry  neck 
of  Alexander;  nor  has  this  strong  bias  of  our  nature  es- 
caped the  all-observant  eye  of  Shakespeare: 

'^  He  was  indeed  the  glass 
*'  Wherein  the  noble  youth  did  dress  themselves. 
"  He  had  no  legs  that  practis'd  not  his  gait; 
"  And  speaking  thick,  which  nature  made  his  blemish, 
"  Became  the  accents  of  the  valiant." 

Hence  too,  the  effect  of  those  writers,  who  unite  with 
any  transcendent  excellencies,  some  affected  peculiarities 
of  manner  or  style,  in  misleading  and  corrupting  the  taste 
of  their  contemporaries.  "  How  many  great  qualities" 
(says  Mr.  Smith)  "must  that  writer  possess,  who  can 
"  thus  render  his  very  faults  agreeable!  After  the  praise 
"  of  refining  the  taste  of  a  nation,  the  highest  eulogy. 


Ghap.  lU.J  ON  TASTE.  455 

"  perhaps,  which  can  be  bestowed  on  any  author,  is  to 
"  say  that  he  corrupted  it."  Proceeding  on  the  same  idea, 
Dr.  Johnson  remarks,  very  justly  and  pertinently,  that 
"  if  there  is  any  WTiter  whose  genius  can  embellish  im- 
"  propriety,  or  whose  authority  can  make  error  venerable, 
*'  his  works  are  the  proper  objects  of  critical  inquisition." 
— It  is  hardly  necessary  for  me  to  add,  that  the  business 
of  the  critic,  in  such  cases  is  to  break  asunder  the  casual 
associations  which  an  unreflecting  admiration  of  genius 
has  established  in  the  public  judgment;  and  that,  in  pro- 
portion to  the  degree  of  sensibility  and  enthusiasm  which 
accompanies  this  admiration  in  the  mind  of  any  individual, 
will  be  the  difficulty  of  the  task  which  the  critic  has  to 
perform. 

The  foregoing  observations  seem  sufficiently  to  shew, 
not  only  that  a  sensibility  to  beauty  does  not  necessarily 
imply  the  power  of  taste;  but  that,  in  a  mind  where  the 
degree  of  sensibility  is  extreme,  the  acquisition  of  a  cor- 
rect taste  is,  in  ordinary  cases,  next  to  impossible.  Such 
a  mind  may  indeed  be  conceived  to  have  been  so  circum- 
stanced, as  to  have  been  conversant  alone  with  the  best 
models;  or  it  may  be  so  fortified  by  habits  of  philosophical 
study  as  to  resist  the  influence  of  casual  associations,  even 
when  it  feels  their  force;  but  these  cases  occur  so  seldom, 
that  the  exceptions  rather  confirm  than  weaken  the  truth 
of  the  general  conclusion. 

Neither  is  it,  perhaps,  in  minds  where  sensibility  forms 
the  principal  feature,  that  the  utmost  delicacy  of  taste  is 
to  be  looked  for.  The  more  prominent  beauties  of  the 
object  are  apt  to  engross  the  whole  soul,  and  to  divert  the 
attention,  not  only  from  its  defects,  but  from  those  nicer 


456  ON  TASTE.  j_Essay  IIT. 

touches  which  characterize  the  finer  shades  and  gradations 
of  art. — On  the  other  hand,  it  is  a  self-evident  truth,  that 
where  tliere  is  no  sensibility^  there  can  be  no  taste;  and  that 
even  where  sensibility  is  not  altogether  wanting,  it  may 
exist  in  a  degree  so  very  trifling,  as  not  to  afford  a  suffi- 
cient inducement  or  motive  for  the  cultivation  of  those 
habits  by  which  taste  is  formed.  There  exists,  therefore, 
a  certain  measure  of  sensibility,  which  at  once  predisposes 
the  mind  to  the  cultivation  of  taste,  and  constitutes  an 
aptitude  for  its  acquisition;  such  a  measure  of  it,  as  ren- 
ders that  class  of  our  pleasures  with  which  taste  is  con- 
versant, an  interesting  object  of  examination  and  study; 
while,  on  the  other  hand,  it  does  not  rise  so  high  as  to 
discourage  habits  of  observation  and  analysis,  or  to  over- 
power the  judgment,  by  lending  irresistible  force  to  casual 
combinations. 

In  the  practical  application,  however,  of  this  conclusion, 
it  is  of  essential  consequence  to  remember,  that  the  de- 
gree of  sensibility  must  always  be  estimated  relatively  to 
the  state  of  those  intellectual  powers  with  which  it  is  com- 
bined. A  degree  of  sensibility  which  a  man  of  vigorous 
understanding  knows  how  to  regulate  and  to  controul, 
may,  in  a  weaker  mind,  not  only  become  a  source  of 
endless  inconvenience  and  error,  but  may  usurp  the  mas- 
tery of  all  its  faculties.  The  truth  of  this  remark  is  daily 
exemplified  in  that  sort  of  sensibility  which  is  affected  by 
the  pleasures  and  pains  of  human  life;  and  it  will  be  found 
to  hold  equally  with  respect  to  the ,  feelings  which  enter 
as  elementary  principles  into  the  composition  of  Taste. 


Chap.  IV J  ON  TASTE.  457 


CHAPTER  FOURTH. 

CONTINUATION  OF  THE  SUBJECT SPECIFIC   PLEASURE  CONNECTED 

WITH    THE    EXERCISE    OF    TASTE. FASTIDIOUSNESS  OF    TASTE 

MISCELLANEOUS    REMARKS    ON    THIS    POWER,    CONSIDERED    IN   ITS 
CONNECTION  WITH  CHARACTER  AND  HAPPINESS. 

JJ  EFORE  I  quit  this  part  of  the  subject,  it  is  important 
for  me  to  add,  that,  in  proportion  as  taste  is  cultivated  and 
matured,  there  arises  a  secondary  pleasure  peculiar  to  this 
acquired  power;  a  pleasure  essentially  distinct  from  those 
primary  pleasures  which  its  appropriate  objects  afford.  A 
man  of  strong-  sensibility,  but  destitute  of  taste,  while  he 
enjoys  the  beauties  of  a  poem  or  a  picture,  will  receive 
no  positive  uneasiness  from  the  concomitant  details  which 
may  diminish  or  obstruct  the  pleasing  effect.  To  a  person, 
on  the  contrary,  of  a  cultivated  taste,  these  will  necessa- 
rily appear  offensive  blemishes,  betraying  a  want  of  skill 
and  judgment  in  the  author;  while,  on  the  other  hand, 
supposing  them  to  have  been  avoided,  and  the  genuine 
principles  of  beauty  to  have  been  exhibited  pure  and  un- 
adulterated, there  would  have  been  superadded  to  the 
pleasures  operating  on  his  natural  sensibility,  the  acquired 
gratification,  of  remarking  the  taste  as  well  as  genius  dis- 
played in  the  performance. 

3M 


458-  ON  TASriS  [Essay  III 

It  is,  however,  in  a  very  small  niiinber,  comparatively 
speaking,  of  individuals,  that  taste  is  the  native  growth 
of  the  original  principles  and  unborrowed  habits  of  their 
own  minds.  In  by  far  the  greater  proportion  of  men,  what 
usurps  that  name,  and  is  too  frequently  acknowledged  as 
having  a  right  to  assume  it,  consists  merely  of  a  prompt 
application  of  certain  technical  rules,  which  pass  current 
in  the  common  circles  of  fashion  or  of  literature;  and 
which  are  adopted  by  the  multitude,  without  the  slightest 
examination,  as  incontrovertible  axioms.  Such,  for  ex- 
ample, is  that  mechanical  and  pedantic  taste  which  is 
imbibed  passively  on  the  authority  of  Aristotle  or  of  Bossu, 
and  which  may,  in  general,  be  distinguished  by  a  fluent 
^  command  of  that  convenient  and  imposing  phraseology 
which  is  called  by  Sterne  "  the  cant  of  criticism." 

These  technical  rules,  at  the  same  time,  although  often 
abused,  are  not  without  their  value;  for,  although  they 
can  never  supply  the  want  of  natural  sensibility,  or  inspire 
a  relish  for  beauty  in  a  mind  insensible  to  it  before,  they 
may  yet  point  out  many  of  the  Jaiilts  which  an  artist  ought 
10  avoid,  and  teach  those  critics  how  to  censure,  who  arc 
incapable  of  being  taught  how  to  admire.  They  may  even 
communicate  to  such  a  critic,  some  degree  of  that  se- 
condari/  pleasure  which  was  formerly  mentioned  as  pecu- 
liar to  taste;  the  pleasure  of  remarking  the  coincidence 
between  the  execution  of  an  artist,  and  the  established 
rules  of  his  art;  or,  if  he  should  himself  aspire  to  be  an 
artist,  they  may  enable  him  to  produce  what  will  not  much 
offend,  if  it  should  fail  to  please.  What  is  commonly 
called  fastidiousness  of  taste,  is  an  affectation  chiefly  ob- 
servable in  persons  of  this  description;  being  the  natural 


€hap.IV.J  ON  TASTE.  459 

effect  of  habits  of  common- place  criticism  on  an  eye  blind 
to  the  perception  of  the  beautiful.  Instances,  at  the  same 
time,  may  be  conceived,  in  which  this  fastidiousness  is 
real;  arising  from  an  unfortunate  predominance  of  the 
secondary  pleasures  and  pains,  peculiar  to  taste,  over 
those  primary  pleasures  and  pains  which  the  object  is 
fitted  to  produce.  But  this,  I  apprehend,  is  a  case  that 
can  rarely  occur  in  a  mind  possessed  of  common  sensi-, 
bility;  more  especially,  if  the  cultivation  of  taste  has  been 
confined  to  that  subordinate  place  which  belongs  to  it, 
among  the  various  other  pursuits  to  which  we  are  ltd  by 
the  speculative  and  active  principles  of  our  nature. 

The  result  of  these  observations  is,  that  the  utmost  to 
be  expected  from  the  rules  of  criticism  is  a  techmcal 
correctness  of  taste;  meaning  by  that  phrase,  a  power  of 
judging,  how  far  the  artist  has  conformed  himself  to  the 
established  and  acknowledged  canons  of  his  art,  widiout 
any  perception  of  those  nameless  excellencies,  which  have 
hitherto  eluded  the  grasp  of  verbal  description. 

There  is  another  species  of  Taste,  (unquestionably  of 
a  higher  order  than  the  technical  taste  we  have  now  been 
considering)  which  is  insensibly  acquired  by  a  diligent 
and  habitual  study  of  the  most  approved  and  consecrated 
standards  of  excellence;  and  which,  in  pronouncing  its 
critical  judgments,  is  secretly,  and  often  unconsciously 
guided,  by  an  idolatrous  comparison  of  what  it  sees,  with 
the  works  of  its  favourite  masters.  This,  I  think,  ap- 
proaches nearly  to  what  La  Bruyere  calls  le  Gout  de  Com- 
paraison.  It  is  that  kind  of  taste  which  commonly  belongs 
to  the  connoisseur  in  painting;  and  to  which  something  per- 
fectly analogous  may  be  remarked  in  all  the  other  fine  arts. 


460  ON  TASTE.  fftssay  «l 

A  person  possessed  of  this  sort  of  taste,  if  he  should 
be  surpassed  in  the  correctness  of  his  judgment  by  the 
technical  critic,  is  much  more  likely  to  recognize  the 
beauties  of  a  new  work,  by  their  resemblance  to  those 
which  are  familiar  to  his  memory;  or,  if  he  should  himself 
attempt  the  task  of  execution,  and  possesses  powers  equal 
to  the  task,  he  may  possibly,  without  any  clear  conception 
of  his  own  merits,  rival  the  originals  he  has  been  accus- 
tomed to  admire.  It  was  said  by  an  ancient  critic,  that,  in 
reading  Seneca,  it  was  impossible  not  to  wish,  that  he 
had  written  "  with  the  taste  of  another  person,  though 
*'  with  his  own  genius;" — suo  ingenio,  alie?io  Judicio;^ — 
and  we  find,  in  fact,  that  many  who  have  failed  as  original 
writers,  have  seemed  to  surpass  themselves,  when  ihey 
attempted  to  imitate.  Warburton  has  remarked,  and,  in 
my  opinion,  with  some  truth,  that  Burke  himself  never 
wrote  so  well,  as  when  he  imitated  Bolingbroke.  If  on 
other  occasions,  he  has  soared  higher  than  in  his  Vindica- 
tion of  Natural  Society,  he  has  certainly  nowhere  else  (I 
speak  at  present  merely  of  the  style  of  his  composition) 
vsu.stained  himself  so  long  upon  a  steady  wing.  I  do  not, 
however,  agree  with  Warburton  in  thinking,  that  this 
implied  any  defect  in  Mr.  Burke's  genius,  connected 
with  that  faculty  of  imitation  which  he  so  eminently  pos- 
sessed. The  defect  lay  in  his  Taste,  which,  when  left  to 
itself,  without  the  guidance  of  an  acknowledged  standard 
of  excellence,  appears  not  only  to  have  been  warped  by 
some  peculiar  notions  concerning  the  art  of  writing;  but 
to  ^ave  been  too  wavering  and  versatile,  to  keep  his  ima- 
gination and  his  fancy  (stimulated  as  they  were  by  an  os- 

*  Velles  eum  suo  ingenio  dixisse,  alieno  judicio. — Quinct.  Lib.  x. 
cap.  1. 


eiiap.rV.3  ON  TASTE.  461 

tentation  of  his  intellectual  riches,  and  by  an  ambition  of 
Asiatic  ornament)  under  due  controul.  With  the  compo- 
sition of  Bolingbroke  present  to  his  thoughts,  he  has 
shewn  with  what  ease  he  could  equal  its  most  finished 
beauties;  while,  on  more  than  one  occasion,  a  conscious- 
ness of  his  own  strength  has  led  him  to  display  his  supe- 
riority, by  brandishing,  in  his  sport,  still  heavier  weapons 
than  his  master  was  able  to  wield. 

To  one  or  other  of  these  two  classes,  the  taste  of  most 
professed  critics  will  be  found  to  belong;  and  it  is  evident, 
that  they  may  both  exist,  where  there  is  little  or  no  sensi- 
bility to  Beauty.  That  genuine  and  native  Taste,  the  origin 
and  growth  of  which  I  attempted  to  describe  in  the  last 
chapter,  is  perhaps  one  of  the  rarest  acquisitions  of  the 
human  mind:  nor  will  this  appear  surprising  to  those  who 
consider  with  attention,  the  combination  of  original  quali- 
ties which  it  implies;  the  accidental  nature  of  many  of  the 
circumstances  which  must  conspire  to  afford  due  oppor- 
tunities for  its  improvement;  and  the  persevering  habits 
of  discriminating  observation  by  which  it  is  formed.  It 
occurs,  indeed,  in  its  most  perfect  state,  as  seldom  as 
originality  of  genius;  and,  when  united  with  industry,  and 
with  moderate  powers  of  execution,  it  will  go  farther,  in 
such  an  age  as  the  present,  to  secure  success  in  the  arts 
with  which  it  is  conversant,  than  the  utmost  fertility  of 
invention,  where  the  taste  is  unformed  or  perverted. 

With  respect  to  this  native  or  indigenous  Taste,  it  is 
particularly  worthy  of  observation,  that  it  is  always  more 
strongly  disposed  to  the  enjoyment  of  Beauties^  than  to 
the  detection  of  Blemishes.  It  is,  indeed,  by  a  quick  and 
lively  perception  of  the  former,  accompanied  with  a  spirit 


462  OS  TASTE.  fEssay  III. 

of  candour  and  indulgence  towards  the  latter»  that  its  ex- 
istence in  the  mind  of  any  individual  is  most  unequivo- 
cally marked.  It  is  this  perception  which  can  alone  evince 
that  sensibility  of  temperament,  of  which  a  certain  portion, 
although  it  does  not  of  itself  constitute  Taste,  is  never- 
theless the  first  and  most  essential  element  in  its  compo- 
sition; while  it  evinces,  at  the  same  time,  those  habits  of 
critical  observation  and  cool  reflection,  which,  allowing 
no  impression,  how  slight  soever,  to  pass  unnoticed,  seem 
to  awaken  a  new  sense  of  Beauty,  and  to  create  that  deli- 
cacy of  feeling  which  they  only  disclose.  We  are  told  of 
Saunderson,  the  blind  mathematician,  that  in  a  series  of 
Roman  medals,  he  could  distinguish  by  his  hand  the  true 
from  the  counterfeit,  with  a  more  unerring  discrimination 
than  the  eye  of  a  professed  Virtuoso;  and  we  are  assured 
by  his  biographer,  Mr.  Colson,  that  when  he  was  present 
at  the  astronomical  observations  in  the  garden  of  his  col- 
lege, he  was  accustomed  to  remark  every  cloud  that  pass- 
ed over  the  sun.  The  eftect  of  the  blindness  of  this  extra- 
ordinary person  was  not  surely  to  produce  any  organical 
change  in  his  other  perceptive  powers.  It  served  only  to 
quicken  his  attention  to  those  slighter  perceptions  of  touch, 
which  are  overlooked  by  men  to  whom  they  convey  no 
useful  information.  The  case  I  conceive  to  be  perfectly 
analogous  in  matters  which  fall  under  the  cognizance  of 
intellectual  taste.  Where  nature  has  denied  all  sensibility 
to  beauty,  no  study  or  instruction  can  supply  the  defect; 
but  it  may  be  possible,  nevertheless,  by  awakening  the 
attention  to  things  neglected  before,  to  develop  a  latent 
sensibility  where  none  was  suspected  to  exist.  In  all  men, 
indeed,  without  exception,  whether  their  natural  sensi- 


Chap.  IV.]  ON  TASTK.  463 

bility  be  strong  or  weak,  it  is  by  such  habits  of  attention 
alone  to  the  finer  feehngs  of  their  own  minds,  that  the 
power  of  taste  can  acquire  all  the  delicacy  of  which  it  is 
susceptible. 

While  this  cultivated  sensibility  enlarges  so  widely  to 
the  man  who  possesses  it  the  pleasures  of  Taste,  it  has  a 
tendency,  wherever  it  is  gratified  and  delighted  in  a  high 
degree,  to  avert  his  critical  eye  from  blemishes  and  im- 
perfections;— not  because  he  is  unable  to  remark  them, 
but  because  he  can  appreciate  the  merits  by  which  they 
are  redeemed,  and  loves  to  enjoy  the  beauties  in  which 
they  are  lost.  A  Taste  thus  awake  to  the  Beautiful  seizes 
eagerly  on  every  touch  of  genius  with  the  sympathy  of 
kindred  affection;  and,  in  the  secret  consciousness  of  a  con- 
genial inspiration,  shares,  in  some  measure,  the  triumph 
of  the  Artist.  The  faults  which  have  escaped  him,  it 
views  with  the  partiality  of  friendship;  and  willingly  aban- 
dons the  censorial  office  to  those  who  exult  in  the  errors 
of  superior  minds  as  their  appropriate  and  easy  prey. 

Nor  is  this  indulgent  spirit  towards  the  works  of  others, 
at  all  inconsistent  with  the  most  rigid  severity  in  an  au- 
thor towards  his  own.  On  the  contrary  both  are  the  natural 
consequences  of  that  discriminating  power  of  taste,  on 
which  I  have  already  enlarged  as  one  of  its  most  important 
characteristics.  Where  men  of  little  discernment  attend 
only  to  general  effects,  confounding  beauties  and  blem- 
ishes, flow^ers  and  weeds,  in  one  gross  and  undistinguish- 
ing  perception,  a  man  of  quick  sensibility  and  cultivated 
judgment,  detaches,  in  a  moment,  the  one  from  the  other; 
rejects,  in  imagination,  whatever  is  offensive  in  the  pros- 
pect, and  enjoys  without  alloy  what  is  fitted  to  please. 


464  ON  TASTE.  tEssay  «1. 

His  taste,  in  the  meantime,  is  refined  and  confirmed  by 
the  exercise:  and,  while  it  muhiplies  the  sources  of  his 
gratification  in  proportion  to  the  latent  charms  which  it 
detects,  becomes  itself,  as  the  arbiter  and  guide  of  his 
own  genius,  more  scrupulous  and  inflexible  than  before. 

"  The  tragedy  of  Douglas"  (says  Gray  in  one  of  his 
letters)  "  has  infinite  faults;  but  there  is  one  scene  (that 
"  between  Matilda  and  the  old  Peasant,)  so  masterly,  that 
*'  it  strikes  me  blind  to  all  the  defects  of  the  piece."  These, 
I  apprehend,  are  the  natural  impressions  of  genuine  taste 
in  pronouncing  on  the  merits  of  works  of  genuine  excel- 
lence; impressions,  however,  which  they  who  are  con- 
scious of  them  have  not  always  the  candour  either  to  in- 
dulge or  to  avow. — Such,  also,  was  the  feeling  which 
dictated  a  memorable  precept  of  La  Bruyere,  of  which  I 
will  not  impair  the  force,  by  attempting  a  translation: 
"  Quand  une  lecture  vous  eleve  I'esprit,  et  qu'elle  vous 
"  inspire  des  sentimens  nobles  etcourageux,  ne  cherchez 
"  pas  une  autre  regie  pour  juger  de  I'Ouvrage;  il  est  bon, 
"  et  fait  de  main  d'Ouvrier." — How  different  both  senti- 
ments from  that  fastidiousness  of  Taste,  by  an  affectation 
of  which  it  is  usual  for  little  minds  to  court  the  reputa- 
tion of  superior  refinement!* 

In  producing,  however,  this  fastidiousness,  whether 
affected  or  real,  various  moral  causes, — such  as  jealousy, 
rivalbhip,  personal  dislike,  or  the  spleen  of  conscious  in- 
feriority,— may  conspire  with  the  intellectual  dtfccts  which 
have  been  mentioned:  Nay,  the  same  moral  causes  may 
be  conceived  to  be  so  powerful  in  their  influence,  as  to 
produce  this  unfortunate  effect  in  spite  of  every  intellectual 

*  Note  (Q  q). 


Qbap.  IV.  j  ON  TASTE.  465 

gift  which  nature  and  education  can  bestow.  It  is  observ- 
ed by  Shenstone,  that  "  good  taste  and  good-nature  are 
"  inseparably  united;"  and,  although  the  observation  is  by 
no  means  true  when  thus  stated  as  an  unquaUfied  propo- 
sition, it  will  be  found  to  have  a  sufficient  foundation  in 
fact,  to  deserve  the  attention  of  those  who  have  a  pleasure 
in  studying  the  varieties  of  human  character.  One  thing 
is  certain,  that  as  a  habitual  deficiency  in  good  humour 
is  sufficient  to  warp  the  decisions  of  the  soundest  taste,  so  ' 
the  taste  of  an  individual,  in  proportion  as  it  appears  to  be 
free  from  capricious  biases,  affords  a  strong  presumption, 
that  the  temper  is  unsuspicious,  open,  and  generous.  As 
the  habits,  besides,  which  contribute  spontaneously  to 
the  formation  of  taste,  all  originate  in  the  desire  of  intel- 
lectual gratification,  this  power,  where  it  is  possessed  in 
an  eminent  degree,  may  be  regarded  as  a  symptom  of 
that  general  disposition  to  be  pleased  and  happy,  in  which 
the  essence  of  good-nature  consists.  "  In  those  vernal 
"  seasons  of  the  year,"  (says  Milton,  in  one  of  the  finest 
sentences  of  his  prose- writings)  "  when  the  air  is  soft 
"  and  pleasant,  it  were  an  injury  and  sullenness  agiilnst 
"  nature,  not  to  go  out  and  see  her  riches,  and  partake  of 
"  her  rejoicings  with  heaven  and  earth."— Such  is  the 
temper  of  mind  by  which,  in  our  early  years,  those  habits 
which  form  the  ground- work  of  taste  are  most  likely  to 
be  formed;  and  such,  precisely,  is  the  temper  which,  in 
our  intercourse  with  our  fellow-creatures,  disposes  us, 
both  for  their  sakes  and  for  our  own,  to  view  their  actions 
and  characters  on  the  fairest  side.  I  need  scarcely  add,  in 
confirmation  of  some  remarks  formerly  made,  that  the 
same  temper,  when  transferred  from  the  observation  of 

3N 


466  ON  TASTE.  [Essay  III- 

nature  to  the  study  of  the  fine  arts,  can  scarcely  fail  to 
incline  the  taste  more  strongly  to  the  side  of  admiration 
than  of  censure. 

After  all,  however,  maxims  of  this  sort  must  neces- 
sarily be  understood  as  liable  to  many  exceptions.  The 
love  of  nature  itself,  even  when  accompanied  with  that 
general  benevolence  towards  our  own  species  with  which 
it  is  in  youth  invariably  attended,  is  not  always  united 
with  that  good  humour  tovvards  individuals,  to  which  it 
seems  so  nearly  allied  in  theor}^,  and  with  which  it  is,  in 
fact,  so  closely  connected,  in  a  great  majority  of  instan- 
ces: Nay,  this  love  of  nature  sometimes  continues  un- 
diminished in  men,  who,  in  consequence  of  disappoint- 
ed hopes  and  expectations,  have  contracted  a  decided 
tendency  to  misanthropy.  It  is  not  therefore  surprising, 
that  an  enthusiastic  admiration  of  natural  beauty  should 
occasionally  meet  in  the  same  person,  with  a  cold  and 
splenetic  tasle  in  the  fine  arts;  at  least  in  instances  where 
the  productions  of  the  present  times  are  to  be  judged  of. 
But  such  exceptions  do  not  invalidate  the  truth  of  the 
general  proposition,  any  more  than  of  every  other  general 
conclusion  relative  to  human  character.  Their  explanation 
is  to  be  sought  for  in  the  accidental  history  of  individual 
minds;  and,  when  successfully  investigated,  will  con- 
stantly be  found  (supposing  our  results  to  be  cautiously 
drawn  from  a  comprehensive  survey  of  human  life)  to 
lend  addiiional  evidence  to  the  very  rules  which  they 
seem,  at  first  view,  to  contradict. 

One  very  obvious  consideration  furnishes,  of  itself,  in 
the  case  now  before  us,  a  key  to  some  apparent  inconsis- 
tencies in  the  reflections  which  I  have  already  hazarded. 


€hap.  IV.J  ON  TASTE.  467 

In  such  maxims  concerning  Taste,  as  that  which  I  have 
quoted  from  Shenstone,  due  attention  is  seldom  paid  to 
the  diversified  appearances  it  exhibits,  according  to  the 
two  very  different  purposes  for  which  it  may  be  exercis- 
ed; First,  as  a  principle  in  the  artist's  mind,  regulating  and 
directing  the  exertions  of  his  own  genius;  and  Secondly, 
us  a  principle  in  the  mind  of  the  critic,  who  judges  of  the 
works  produced  by  the  genius  of  another.  In  the  former 
case,  where  none  of  the  moral  causes  by  which  taste  is 
most  liable  to  be  warped  have  any  room  to  operate,  it 
cannot  be  denied,  that  it  is  sometimes  displayed  in  no  in- 
considerable degree  (although,  I  believe,  never  in  its 
highest  perfection)  by  individuals,  in  whose  characters 
neither  good  humour  nor  any  other  amiable  quality  is  at 
all  conspicuous.  In  the  latter  case,  an  habitual  justice  and 
mildness  in  its  decisions,  more  particularly  where  works 
of  contemporary  genius  are  in  question,  is  an  infallible 
test  of  the  absence  of  those  selfish  partialities  and  peevish 
jealousies,  which  encroach  so  deeply  on  the  happiness  of 
many,  whom  nature  has  distinguished  by  the  most  splen- 
did endowments;  and  which,  wherever  they  are  allowed 
to  operate,  are  equally  fatal  to  the  head  and  to  the  heart. 
It  is  a  melancholy  fact  with  respect  to  artihts  of  all 
classes;  painters,  poets,  orators,  and  eloquent  writers;  that 
a  large  proportion  of  those  who  have  evinced  the  soundest 
and  the  surest  taste  in  their  own  produciions,  have  yet 
appeared  totally  destitute  of  this  power,  when  they  have 
assumed  the  office  of  critics.  How  is  this  to  be  accounted 
for,  but  by  the  influence  of  bad  passions  (unsuspected 
probably  by  themselves)  in  blinding  or  jaundicing  their 
critical  eye?  In  truth,  it  is  only  when  the  mind  is  perfectly 


468  OW  TASTE.  [Eway  IH. 

serene,  that  the  decisions  of  taste  can  be  relied  on.  In 
these  nicest  of  all  operations  of  the  intellect,  where  the 
grounds  of  judgment  are  often  so  shadowy  and  compli- 
cated, the  latent  sources  of  error  are  numberless;  and  to 
guard  against  them,  it  is  necessary  that  no  circumstance, 
however  trifling,  should  occur,  either  to  discompose  the 
feelings,  cr  to  mislead  the  understanding. 

Among  our  English  poets,  who  is  more  vigorous,  cor- 
rect, and  polished  than  Dr.  Johnson,  in  the  few  poetical 
compositions  which  he  has  left?  Whatever  may  be 
thought  of  his  claims  to  originality  of  genius,  no  person 
"who  reads  his  verses  can  deny,  that  he  possessed  a  sound 
taste  in  this  species  of  composition;  and  yet,  how  wayward 
and  perverse  in  many  instances,  are  his  decisions  when 
he  sits  in  judgment  on  a  political  adversary,  or  when  he 
treads  on  the  ashes  of  a  departed  rival!  To  myself  (much 
as  1  admire  his  great  and  various  merits,  both  as  a  critic 
and  as  a  writer),  human  nature  never  appears  in  a  more 
humiliating  form,  than  when  I  read  his  Lives  of  the  Poets; 
a  performance  which  exhibits  a  more  faithful,  expressive, 
and  curious  picture  of  the  author,  than  all  the  portraits 
attempted  by  his  biographers;  and  which,  in  this  point  of 
view,  compensates  fully  by  the  moral  lessons  it  may  sug- 
gest, for  the  critical  errors  which  it  sanctions.  The  errors, 
alas!  are  not  such  as  any  one  who  has  perused  his  imita- 
tions of  Juvenal  can  place  to  the  account  of  a  bad  taste; 
but  such  as  had  their  root  in  weaknesses,  which  a  noble 
mind  would  be  still  more  unwilling  to  acknowledge. 

If  these  observations  are  well-founded,  they  seem  to 
render  it  somewhat  doubtful,  whether,  in  the  different  arts, 
the  most  successful  adventurers  are  likely  to  prove,  in 


Chap.  IV.]  ON  TASTE.  469^ 

matters  of  criticism,  the  safest  guides;  although  Pope  ap- 
pears to  have  considered  the  censorial  authority  as  their 
exclusive  prerogative. 

"  Let  such  teach  others,  who  themselves  excel, 
"  And  censure  freely  who  have  written  well." 

That  the  maxim  is  founded  in  good  sense,  as  long  as 
the  artist  confines  himself  to  general  critical  precepts,  or 
to  the  productions  of  other  times,  I  do  not  mean  at  present 
to  dispute;  although  even  on  this  point  I  entertain  some 
doubts.  But,  in  estimating  the  merits  of  a  contemporary 
candidate  for  fame,  how  seldom  do  we  meet  with  an  artist, 
whose  decisions  are  dictated  by  taste  alone,  without  a  pal- 
pable admixture  of  caprice  or  of  passion;  and  how  often 
have  we,  on  such  occasions,  to  lament  that  oracular  con- 
tempt of  public  opinion  and  public  feeling,  which  con- 
scious superiority  is  too  apt  to  inspire!  Other  causes,  be- 
sides, of  a  much  more  secret  and  obscure  nature  than 
these  moral  weaknesses,  cooperate  powerfully  in  produ- 
cing  the  same  effect.  Such,  for  example,  are  the  biases, 
originating  in  casual  and  inexplicable  associations,  which, 
in  powerful,  but  limited  minds,  are  frequently  identified 
with  the  characteristical  stamina  of  genius;  furnishing 
matter  of  wonder  and  of  pity  to  others,  whose  intellectual 
features  are  less  strongly  marked  by  individual  peculiari- 
ties.— "  Thomson  has  lately  published  a  poem  called  the 
"  Castle  of  Indolence^  in  which  there  are  some  good  stan- 
**  zas."  Who  could  have  expected  this  sentence  from  the 
pen  of  Gray?  In  an  ordinary  critic,  possessed  of  one 
hundredth  part  of  Gray's  sensibility  and  taste,  such  total 


470  ON  TASTE.  CEjeaylU. 

indifference  to  the  beauties  of  this  exquisite  performance, 
would  be  utterly  impossible.* 

But  I  will  not  multiply  illustrations  on  a  topic  so  pecu- 
liarly ungrateful.  The  hints  which  I  have  already  thrown 
out,  are,  I  hope,  sufficient  to  lead  the  thoughts  of  my 
younger  readers  to  those  practical  reflections  which  they 
were  intended  to  suggest.  They  have,  indeed,  but  little 
originality  to  boast  of;  but  they  point  at  some  sources  of 
false  taste,  overlooked  in  our  common  systems  of  criti- 
cism; and  which,  however  compatible  with  many  of  the 
rarest  and  most  precious  gifts  of  the  understanding,  are 
inconsistent  with  that  uncl9uded  reason,  that  unperverted 
sensibility,  and  that  unconquerable  candour,  which  mark 
a  comprehensive,  an  upright,  and  an  elevated  mind. 

When  iEschines,  after  his  retreat  to  Rhodes,  was,  one 
day,  reading  aloud  to  some  friends,  the  oration  ttz^i  c-n- 
(pixvou,  which  had  occasioned  his  exile;  and  when  his 
hearers  were  lost  in  wonder  at  the  eloquence  of  Demos- 
thenes;— "  What  (said  he)  would  you  have  thought,  if 
"you  had  heard  him  pronounce  it?" — Such  is  the  language 
(if  I  may  borrow  the  words  of  Mr.  Gibbon)  •'  in  which 
"  one  great  man  should  speak  of  another;"  and  which 
they  who  are  truly  great  will  feel  a  peculiar  pleasure  to 
employ,  when  the  well-merited  fame  of  an  adversary  is  in 

*  La  Bruyere  (according  to  the  usual  practice  of  writers  of  max- 
ims) has  pushed  this  train  of  thinking  to  an  extreme,  in  order  to 
give  more  point  to  his  apothegm.  Yet  there  is  some  truth,  as  well 
as  wit,  in  the  following  sentences: 

"  Si  une  belle  femmc  approuve  la  beaute  d'une  autre  femme,  on 
"  peut  conclure  qu'elle  a  inieux  que  ce  qu'elle  approuve.  Si  un 
"  poete  loue  les  vers  d'un  autre  poete,  il  y  a  a  parier  qu'ils  sont 
"  mauvais  et  sans  consequence." 


qhap.lV.]  ON  TASTE.  471 

question.  Nor  is  this  magnanimity  without  its  reward  in 
the  judgment  of  the  world.  Where  is  the  individual  to  be 
found,  who,  in  reading  the  foregoing  story  of  i^schines, 
does  not  envy  the  feelings  he  enjoyed  at  that  proud  mo- 
ment of  his  life,  far  more  than  the  palm  of  eloquence 
which  he  yielded  to  his  enemy?* 

Why  do  not  men  of  superior  talents,  if  they  should  not 
always  aspire  to  the  praise  of  a  candour  so  heroic,  strive 
at  least,  for  the  honour  of  the  arts  which  they  love,  to 
conceal  their  ignoble  jealousies  from  the  malignity  of 
those,  whom  incapacity  and  mortified  pride  have  leagued 
together,  as  the  covenanted  foes  of  worth  and  genius? 
What  a  triumph  has  been  furnished  to  the  writers  who 
delight  in  levelling  all  the  proud  distinctions  of  Humanity; 
and  what  a  stain  has  been  left  on  some  of  the  fairest  pages 
of  our  literary  history,  by  the  irritable  passions  and  petty 
hostilities  of  Pope  and  of  Addison! 

The  complete  forgetfulness  of  every  selfish  passion  (so 
beautifully  exemplified  in  the  anecdote  of  iEschines)  when 
the  mind  is  agitated  by  the  enthusiasm  of  admiration; — 
the  sympathetic  identification  which  then  takes  place  of 
the  hearer  or  reader  with  the  author,  was  probably  what 
Longinus  felt,  when  he  observed,  in  his  account  of  the 
Sublime,  that  "  it  fills  the  mind  with  a  glorying  and  sense 


* "  Quo  mihi  melius  etiam  illud  ab  jEschine  dictum  vi- 

"  deri  solet,  qui  cum  propter  ignominiam  judicii  cessisset  Athenis, 
"  et  se  Rhodum  contulisset,  rogatus  a  Rhodiis,  legisse  feriur  ora- 
"  tionem  illam  egregiam,  quam  in  Ctesiphontem  contra  Demosthe- 
"  nem  dixerat:  qua  perlecta,  petitum  est  ab  eo  postridie,  ut  legeret 
"  illam  etiam,  quae  erat  contra  a  Demosthene  pro  Ctesiphonte  edita: 
"  quam  cum  suavissima  et  maxima  voce  legisset,  admirantibus  om- 
"  nibus,  Quanto,  inquit,  magis  admiraremini,  si  audissetisipsum!" — 
Cic.  de  Orat.  Lib.  III. 


472  ON  TASTE.  [Esiay  III. 

"  of  inward  greatness,  as  if  it  had  itself  conceived  what  it 
"  has  only  heard."  If  the  remark  should  be  censured  as 
out  of  place,  when  introduced  into  his  statement  of  the 
characteristics  of  Sublimity,  it  must,  at  least,  be  allowed 
to  be  happil}'  descriptive  of  that  temper  and  frame  which 
are  essential  to  its  complete  enjoyment. — "  Voila  le  sub- 
"  lime!  Voila  son  veritable  caractere!"  is  said  to  have 
been  the  exclamation  of  the  great  Conde,  when  Boileau 
read  to  him  his  translation  of  the  above  passage. 

Having  been  insensibly  led  into  these  reflections  on 
sorrje  of  the  moral  defects  by  which  taste  is  liable  to  be 
injured,  I  cannot  help  quoting,  before  I  close  this  view 
of  my  subject,  a  remark  of  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds  (not  al- 
together unconnected  with  it,)  which  appears  to  me 
equally  refined  and  just.  "  The  same  habit  of  mind"  (he 
observes)  "  which  is  acquired  by  our  search  after  truth 
"  in  .the  more  serious  duties  of  life,  is,  in  matters  of  taste, 
"  only  transferred  to  the  pursuit  of  lighter  amusements. 
"  The  same  disposition,  the  same  desire  to  find  something 
"  steady,  substantial  and  durable,  on  which  the  mind  can 
*'  lean  as  it  were,  and  rest  with  safety.  The  subject  only 
"  is  changed.  We  pursue  the  same  method  in  our  search 
"  after  the  idea  of  beauty  and  perfection  in  each;  of  virtue, 
"  by  looking  forwards  beyond  ourselves,  to  society  and 
**  to  the  whole;  of  arts,  by  extending  our  views  in  the 
"  same  manner  to  all  ages  and  all  times."  In  farther  illus- 
tration of  the  same  idea  he  observes,  "  that  the  real  sub- 
"  stance  of  what  goes  under  the  name  of  taste  is  fixed 
"  and  established  in  the  nature  of  things;  that  there  are 
"  certain  and  regular  causes  by  which  the  imagination  and 
"  passions  of  men  are  affected;  and  that  the  knowledge  of 

2 


Cl.ap.  IV.J  ON  TASTE.  478 

"  these  causes  is  acquired  by  a  laborious  and  diligent  in- 
"  vestigation  of  nature,  and  by  the  same  slow  process  as 
"  wisdom  or  knowledge  of  every  kind." — I  would  only 
add,  (by  way  of  limitation)  that  these  observations  apply 
rather  to  that  quality  of  taste  which  is  denoted  by  the  words 
justness  or  soundness^  than  to  its  sensibility  and  delicacy; 
which  last  circumstances  seem  to  depend,  in  no  incon- 
siderable degree,  on  original  temperament.  The  former 
is  unquestionably  connected  very  closely  with  the  love  of 
truth,  and  with  what  is  perhaps  only  the  same  thing  under 
a  different  form,  simplicity  of  character. 

If  the  account  be  just  which  has  now  been  given,  of 
the  process  by  which  Taste  is  formed,  and  of  the  various 
faculties  and  habits  which  contribute  their  share  to  its 
composition,  we  may  reasonably  expect,  where  it  exists  in 
its  highest  perfection,  to  find  an  understanding,  discrimi- 
nating, comprehensive,  and  unprejudiced;  united  with  a 
love  of  truth  and  of  nature,  and  with  a  temper  superior  to 
the  irritation  of  little  passions.  While  it  implies  a  spirit  of 
accurate  observation  and  of  patient  induction,  applied  to 
the  most  fugitive  and  evanescent  class  of  our  mental 
phenomena,  it  evinces  that  power  of  separating  universal 
associations  from  such  as  are  local  or  personal,  which, 
more  than  any  other  quality  of  the  mind,  is  the  foundation 
of  good  sense,  both  in  scientific  pursuits,  and  in  the  con- 
duct of  life.  The  intellectual  efforts  by  which  such  a  taste 
is  formed  are,  in  reality,  much  more  nearly  allied  than  is 
commonly  suspected,  to  those  which  are  employed  in 
prosecuting  the  most  important  and  difficult  branches  of 
the  philosophy  of  the  human  mind. 

Nor  am  I  inclined  to  think,  that  this  conclusion  will, 

30 


474-  ON  TASl'E.  [Essay  III. 

on  examination,  appear  inconsistent  with  fact.  That  a 
partial  taste,  confined  to  some  particular  art,  such  as  mu- 
sic, painting,  or  even  poetry,  may  be  often  found  united 
with  an  intellect  which  does  not  rise  above  the  common 
level,  I  very  readily  grant;  although  1  think  it  questiona- 
ble, whether,  in  such  an  intellect,  supposing  example  and 
imitation  to  be  altogether  out  of  the  question,  even  a  par- 
tial taste  of  this  kind  could  have  been  originally  formed. 
But  the  fair  test  of  the  soundness  of  the  foregoing  reason- 
ings is  an  instance,  in  which  the  good  taste  of  the  indivi- 
dual has  been  the  fruit  of  his  own  exertions;  and  in  which 
it  extends,  more  or  less,  to  all  the  arts  which  he  has 
made  the  objects  of  his  study,  and  which  nature  has  not 
denied  him,  by  some  organical  defect  in  his  original  con- 
stitution, a  capacity  of  enjoying.  Where  a  good  taste  has 
been  thus  formed,  I  am  fully  persuaded,  that  the  infe- 
rences which  I  have  supposed  to  follow  with  respect  to 
the  other  intellectual  powers  involved  in  its  composition, 
will  be  justified,  in  all  their  extent,  by  an  appeal  to  ex- 
perience. 

The  subject  might  be  prosecuted  much  farther,  by 
examining  the  varieties  of  taste  in  connection  with  the 
varieties  of  human  character.  In  studying  the  latter,  whe- 
ther our  object  be  to  seize  the  intellectual  or  the  moral 
features  of  the  mind,  the  former  will  be  found  to  supply 
as  useful  and  steady  a  light  as  any  that  we  can  command. 
To  myself  it  appears  to  furnish  the  strongest  of  them  all; 
more  particularly,  where  the  finer  and  more  delicate 
shades  of  character  are  in  question. — But  the  illustration 
of  this  remark  belongs  to  some  speculations  which  I  des- 
tine for  a  different  work. 


ESSAY  FOURTH. 


ON  THE  CULTURE  OF  CERTAIN  INTELLECTUAl.  HA- 
BITS CONNECTED  WITH  THE  FIRST  ELEMENTS  OF 
TASTE. 


CHAPTER  FIRST. 

DEPENDENCE  OF  TASTE  ON  A  RELISH  FOR  THE   PLEASURES  OF  IMA- 
GINATION.  REMARKS   ON    THE   PREVAILING    IDEA,    THAT   THESE 

ARE  TO  BE  ENJOYED  IN  PERFECTION,  IN  YOUTH  ALONE, 

In  what  I  have  hitherto  said  with  respect  to  Taste,  I  have 
considered  it  chiefly  as  the  native  growth  of  the  individual 
mind  to  which  it  belongs;  endeavou/ing  to  trace  it  to  its 
first  principles  or  seeds  in  our  intellectual  frame.  In  cases, 
however,  where  nature  has  not  been  so  liberal  as  to  ren- 
der the  formation  of  this  power  possible,  merely  from  the 
mind's  own  internal  resources,  much  may  be  done  by  ju- 
dicious culture  in  early  life;  and  in  all  cases  whatever,  in 
such  a  state  of  society  as  ours,  its  growth,  even  when 
most  completely  spontaneous,  cannot  fail  to  be  influenced, 
in  a  greater  or  less  degree,  by  instruction,  by  imitation, 
by  the  contagion  of  example,  and  by  various  other  ad- 
ventitious causes. 

It  is  reasonable  also  to  believe,  that  there  are  number- 
less minds,  in  which  the  seeds  of  taste,  though  profusely 


476  ON  THE  CULTURE  OF  CERTAIN  [Essay  IV. 

sown,  continue  altogether  dormant  through  life;  either  in 
consequence  of  a  total  want  of  opportunity  to  cultivate 
the  habits  by  which  it  is  to  be  matured,  or  of  an  attention 
completely  engrossed  with  other  pursuits.  In  instances 
such  as  these,  it  is  the  province  of  education  to  lend  her 
succour;  to  invigorate,  by  due  exercise,  those  principles 
^n  which  an  original  weakness  may  be  suspected;  and,  by 
removing  the  obstacles  which  check  the  expansion  of  our 
powers  in  any  of  the  directions  in  which  nature  disposes 
them  to  shoot,  to  enable  her  to  accomplish  and  to  perfect 
her  own  designs. 

To  suggest  practical  rules  for  this  important  purpose 
would  be  inconsistent  with  the  limits  of  a  short  Essay; 
and  I  shall,  therefore,  confine  myself  to  a  few  sligh:  hints 
with  respect  to  some  of  the  more  essential  propositions 
on  which  such  rules  must  proceed. 

Before  I  enter  on  this  subject,  it  is  necessary  to  pre- 
mise, that  my  aim  is  not  to  explain  how  a  vitiated  or  false 
taste  in  any  of  the  fine  arts  may  be  corrected;  or  in  what 
manner  an  imperfect  taste  may  be  trained  by  culture  to 
a  state  of  higher  refinement;  but  to  inquire,  in  the  case  of 
an  individual,  whose  thoughts  have  hitherto  been  totally 
engrossed  with  other  pursuits,  how  far  it  may  be  possi- 
ble, by  engaging  his  attention  to  a  new  class  of  pleasures, 
to  bring  his  mind  into  that  track  of  observation  and  study, 
by  the  steady  pursuit  of  which  alone  (as  I  have  already 
endeavoured  to  shew)  the  power  of  taste  is  to  be  gradu- 
ally and  slowly  formed.  In  prosecuting  this  speculation, 
I  shall  have  a  view  more  particularly  to  that  species  of 
Taste  which  has  for  its  object  the  beauties  of  external 
nature,  whether  presented  directly  to  the  senses,  or  re- 


Chap.  1.3  INTELLECTUAL  HABITS,  &c.  477 

called  to  the  imagination,  with  the  modifications  and 
heightenings  of  poetical  or  creative  invention.  Without 
some  portion  of  this  taste,  while  an  essential  blank  is  left 
in  the  circle  of  his  most  refined  enjoyments,  the  intcllec* 
tual  frame  of  man  is  incomplete  and  mutilated;  and, 
although  the  fact  be  undoubtedly  the  same,  more  or  less, 
with  a  taste  in  music,  in  painting,  in  architecture  and  va- 
rious other  arts,  the  difference  in  point  of  degree  is  so 
immense,  as  to  render  the  effects  unsusceptible  of  com- 
parison. Nor  is  this  all.  The  transition  from  a  Taste  for 
the  beautiful^  to  that  more  comprehensive  Taste  which 
extends  to  all  the  other  pleasures  of  which  poetical  fiction 
is  the  vehicle,  is  easy  and  infallible;  and  accordingly  we 
shall  find,  as  we  proceed  in  our  argument,  the  subject  to 
which  it  relates  swell  insensibly  in  its  dimensions,  and 
branch  out,  on  every  side,  into  numberless  ramifications. 
The  hints,  therefore,  which  I  am  now  to  suggest,  limited 
as  some  of  them  may  appear  to  be  in  their  immediate 
scope,  may,  perhaps,  contribute  to  direct  into  the  right 
path,  such  of  my  readers  as  may  aim  at  conclusions  more 
general  than  mine.  In  the  mean  time,  I  must  beg  leave 
to  remind  them,  that  amid  such  an  infinity  of  aspects,  as 
the  objects  and  the  principle  of  taste  present  to  our  curi- 
osity, a  selection  of  the  happiest  points  of  view  is  all  that 
is  possible;  and  that,  in  fixing  upon  these,  I  must  neces- 
sarily be  guided  by  the  intimacy  of  that  relation,  which 
they  seem  to  myself  to  bear  to  the  Philosophy  of  the  Hu- 
man Mind. 

I  have  observed,  in  a  former  work,  that  what  is  com- 
monly called  sensibility  depends,  in  a  great  measure,  on 


478  ON  THE  CULTURE  OP  CERTAIN  [Essay  IV. 

the  State  of  the  imagination.*  In  the  passage  to  which  I 
allude,  my  remark  has  a  more  peculiar  reference  to  mo- 
ral sensibility,  or  to  what  may  be  called,  for  the  sake  of 
distinction,  the  sensibility  of  the  heart.  But  it  will  be 
found  to  apply  also  with  great  force  (although  I  acknow- 
ledge, not  without  some  limitations)  to  the  sensibility  of 
taste.  In  so  far  as  the  pleasures  of  Taste  depend  on  asso- 
ciation; on  the  perception  of  uses  or  fitnesses;  on  sympathy 
with  the  enjoyments  of  animated  beings^  or  on  other  cir- 
cumstances of  a  similar  nature,  the  remark  will,  I  appre- 
hend, apply  literally;  and  it  only  fails  with  respect  to  those 
organical  pleasures  (the  pleasures,  for  example,  depend- 
ing on  the  sensibility  of  the  eye  to  colours,  and  of  the 
ear  to  musical  tones)  over  which  the  imagination  cannot 
be  supposed  to  have  much  influence.  But,  that  these  or- 
ganical pleasures,  although  the  parent  stock  on  which  all 
our  more  complicated  feelings  of  Beauty  are  afterwards 
grafted,  as  well  as  the  means  by  which  the  various  ex- 
citing causes  of  these  feelings  are  united  and  consolida- 
ted under  the  same  common  appellation; — that  these  or- 
ganical pleasures,  I  say,  form  by  far  the  most  inconsider- 
able part  of  that  general  impression  or  effect  which  is 
produced  by  the  objects  of  taste  on  a  cultivated  mind, 
has,  I  trust,  been  already  sufficiently  shewn. 

The  sensibility  of  taste,  therefore  (we  may  conclude)  de- 
pends chiefly,  in  the  mind  of  any  individual,  on  the  associ- 
ations and  other  intellectual  processes  connected  with  the 
objects  about  which  taste  is  conversant;  and,  consequently, 
the  only  effectual  means  of  developing  Mz-y  sensibility,  (the 
most  essential  of  all  the  elements  of  taste,  and  indeed  the 

*  Philosophy  of  the  Human  Mind,  p.  509,  3d  edit. 


Chap.  I]  INTELLECTUAL  HABITS,  kc.  479 

seminal  principle  of  the  whole)  must  begin  with  the  cul- 
ture of  Imagination. 

With  respect  to  this  last  power,  it  may  contribute  to 
the  clearness  of  some  of  the  following  reasonings,  to  pre- 
mise, that  although,  according  to  the  idea  of  it  which  I 
endeavoured  formerly  to  illustrate,*  its  most  distinguish- 
ing characteristic  is  a  faculty  of  creation,  (or,  to  speak 
more  correctly,  of  invention  and  of  new  combination) 
yet,  when  considered  in  its  relation  to  Taste,  this  inven- 
tive faculty  is  the  least  important  ingredient  in  its  com- 
position. All  that  is  essentially  necessary  is  a  capacity  of 
seizing,  and  comprehending,  and  presenting  in  a  lively 
manner  to  one's  own  mind,  whatever  combinations  are 
formed  by  the  imagination  of  others.  When  such  combi- 
nations have  for  their  materials,  nothing  but  what  is  bor- 
rowed from  sensible  objects,  this  capacity  differs  so  little 
from  what  I  before  called  Conception,!  that  if  I  had  been 
to  confine  myself  to  these  exclusively,  I  should  not  have 
wished  for  any  other  word  to  convey  my  meaning  at  pre- 
sent. As,  in  other  parts  of  my  writings,,  however,  imagi- 
nation is  commonlv  to  be  understood  in  the  mostenlarar- 
ed  sense,  as  possessing  a  sway  over  the  intellectual  and 
moral  worlds  as  well  as  over  the  material,  an  expression 
of  more  comprehensive  import  than  Conception  may  be 
sometimes  convenient;  and  I  shall  therefore,  for  want  of 
a  better  phrase,  avail  myself  of  the  epithet  apprehensive^ 
to  distinguish  that  modification  of  imagination  which 
is  subservient  to  taste,  from  that  inventive  or  creative 
imagination,  which  forms  the  chief  element  in  poeticdl 
genius. 

*  Philosophy  of  the  Hunjan  Mind  t  Ibid, 


480  ON  THE  CULTLUt  OF  CERTAIN  [Essay  IV. 

Notwithstanding,  however,  the  justness  of  this  theore 
tical  distinction,  I  shall  seldom,  if  ever,  have  occasion,  in 
the  sequel  of  this  volun^.e,  to  employ  the  epithets  which 
I  have  now  proposed  to  introduce.  The  transition  from 
the  apprehensive  to  the  inventive  operations  of  imagination, 
appears  to  me  to  be,  in  reality,  much  simpler  and  ejisier 
than  is  commonly  suspected:  in  other  words,  I  conceive, 
that  where  the  mind  has  been  early  and  familiarly  con- 
versant with  the  fictions  of  poetry,  the  acquisition  of  that 
inventive  or  creative  faculty  which  characterizes  the  poet, 
depends,  in  a  great  measure,  on  the  individual  himself; 
supposing  that  there  exists  no  extraordinary  deficiency  in 
his  other  intellectual  capacities. — In  what  remains,  there- 
fore, of  this  Essay,  I  shall  make  use  of  the  word  Ima- 
gination,  without  any  epithet  whatever;  premising  only  in 
general,  that  it  is  the  apprehensive  power  of  imagination, 
and  not  its  inventive  power,  which  I  have  solely  in  view, 
when  I  speak  of  its  culture  as  an  important  object  of  edu- 
cation. 

In  what  manner  Imagination  may  be  encouraged  and 
cherished  in  a  mind  where  it  had  previously  made  little 
appearance,  may  be  easily  conceived  from  what  was  stated 
in  a  former  Essay,  with  respect  to  the  peculiar  charm 
which  sometimes  accompanies  the  pleasures  produced  by 
its  ideal  combinations,  when  compared  with  the  corre- 
sponding realities  in  nature  and  in  human  life.  The  eager 
curiosity  of  childhood,  and  the  boundless  gratification 
which  it  is  so  easy  to  afford  it  by  well  selected  works  of 
fiction,  give,  in  fact,  to  education,  a  stronger /^wrc/za^e,  if 
I  may  use  the  expression,  over  this  faculty,  than  what  it 
possesses  over  any  other.  The  attention  may  be  thus  iii- 
2 


Chap  I]  INTELLECTUAL  HABITS,  &c.  481 

sensibly  seduced  from  the  present  objects  of  the  senses, 
and  the  thoughts  accustomed  to  dwell  on  the  past,  the 
distant,  or  the  future;  and,  in  the  same  proportion  in  which 
this  effect  is  in  any  instance  accomplished,  "  the  man''* 
(as  Dr.  Johnson  has  justly  remarked)  "  is  exalted  in  the 
"  scale  of  intellectual  being."  The  tale  of  fiction  will  pro- 
bably be  soon  laid  aside  with  the  toys  and  rattles  of  in- 
fancy; but  the  habits  which  it  has  contributed  to  fix,  and 
the  powers  which  it  has  brought  into  a  state  of  activity, 
will  remain  with  the  possessor,  permanent  and  inestima- 
ble treasures,  to  his  latest  hour.  To  myself,  this  appears 
the  most  solid  advantage  to  be  gained  from  fictitious  com- 
position, considered  as  an  engine  of  early  instruction;  I 
mean,  the  attractions  which  it  holds  out  for  encouraging 
an  intercourse  with  the  authors  best  fitted  to  invigorate 
and  enrich  the  imagination,  and  to  quicken  whatever  is 
dormant  in  the  sensibility  to  beauty:  or,  to  express  myself 
still  more  plainly,  the  value  of  the  incidents  seems  to  me 
to  arise  chiefly,  from  their  tendency  to  entice  the  young 
reader  into  that  fairy -land  of  poetry,  where  the  scenes  of 
romance  are  laid.-^Nor  is  it  to  the  young  alone  that  I 
Avould  confine  these  observations  exclusively.  Instances 
have  frequently  occurred  of  individuals,  in  whom  the 
Power  of  Imagination  has,  at  a  more  advanced  period  of 
life,  been  found  susceptible  of  culture  to  a  wonderful 
degree.  In  such  men,  what  an  accession  is  gained  to  their 
most  refined  pleasures!  What  enchantments  are  added  to 
their  most  ordinary  perceptions!  The  mind  awakening,  as 
if  from  a  trance,  to  a  new  existence,  becom.es  habituated 
to  the  most  interesting  aspects  of  life  and  of  nature;  the 
intellectual  eye  is  "  purged  of  its  film;"  and  things  the 

3  P 


482  ox  THE  CULTLTIE  OF  CERTAIX  [Essay  IV. 

most  familiar  and  unnoticed,  disclose  charms  invisible 
before.  The  same  objects  and  events  which  were  lately 
beheld  with  indifference,  occupy  now  all  the  powers  and 
capacities  of  the  soul;  the  contrast  between  the  present 
and  the  past  serving  only  to  enhance  and  to  endear  so  un- 
looked-for an  acquisition.  What  Gray  has  so  finely  said 
of  the  pleasures  of  vicissitude^  conveys  but  a  faint  image 
of  what  is  experienced  by  the  man,  who,  after  having  lost 
in  vulgar  occupations  and  vulgar  amusements,  his  earliest 
and  most  precious  years,  is  thus  introduced  at  last  to  a 
new  heaven  and  a  new  earth; 

"  The  meanest  flow'ret  of  the  vale, 
"  The  simplest  note  that  swells  the  gale, 
"  The  common  sun,  the  air,  the  skies, 
"  To  him  are  op'ning  Paradise." 

The  effects  of  foreign  travel  have  been  often  remarked, 
not  only  in  rousing  the  curiosity  of  the  traveller  while 
abroad,  but  in  correcting,  after  his  return,  whatever  habits 
of  inattention  he  had  contracted  to  the  institutions  and 
manners  among  which  he  was  bred.  It  is  in  a  way  some- 
what analogous,  that  our  occasional  excursions  into  the 
regions  of  imagination   increase   our  interest    in  those 
familiar  realities  from  which  the  stores  of  imagination  are 
borrowed.  We  learn  insensibly  to  view  nature  with  the 
eye  of  the  painter  and  of  the  poet,  and  to  seize  those 
"  happy  attitudes  of  things"  which  their  taste  at  first 
selected;  while,  enriched  with  the  accumulations  of  ages, 
and  with,  "  the  spoils  of  time,"  we  unconsciously  com- 
bine with  what  ^ve  see,  all  that  we  know  and  all  that  we 
feel;  and  sublime  the  organical  beauties  of  the  material 


ehap.  1.3  INTELLECTUAL  HABITS,  kc.  483 

world,  by  blending  with  them  the  inexhaustible  delights 
of  the  heart  and  of  the  fancy. 

And  here,  may  I  be  allowed  to  recommend,  in  a  more 
particular  manner,  the  pleasures  of  imagination  to  such  of 
my  readers,  as  have  hitherto  been  wholly  engrossed  with 
the  study  of  the  severer  sciences,  or  who  have  been  hur- 
ried, at  too  early  a  period,  into  active  and  busy  life?  Ab- 
stracting from  the  tendency  which  a  relish  for  these  plea- 
sures obviously  has  to  adorn  the  more  solid  acquisitions 
of  the  one  class,  and  to  ennoble,  with  liberality  and  light, 
the  habits  of  the  other,  they  may  both  be  assured,  that  it 
will  open  to  them  sources  of  enjoyment  hitherto  inexpe- 
rienced, and  communicate  the  exercise  of  powers  of  which 
they  are  yet  unconscious.  It  was  said,  with  truth,  by 
Charles  the  Twelfth  of  Sweden,  that  he  who  was  ignorant 
of  the  arithmetical  art  was  but  half  a  man; — un  homme  a 
demi.  With  how  much  greater  force  may  a  similar  ex- 
pression be  applied  to  him^  who  carries  to  his  grave,  the 
neglected  and  unprofitable  seeds  of  faculties,  which  it 
depended  on  himself  to  have  reared  to  maturity,  and  of 
which  the  fruits  bring  accessions  to  human  happiness, 
more  precious  than  all  the  gratifications  Avhich  power  or 
wealth  can  command!  I  speak  not  of  the  laborious  orders 
of  society,  to  whom  this  class  of  pleasures  must,  from 
their  condition,  be,  in  a  great  measure,  necessarily  denied; 
but  of  men  destined  for  the  higher  and  more  independent 
walks  of  life,  who  are  too  often  led,  by  an  ignorance  of 
their  own  possible  attainments,  to  exhaust  all  their  toil  on 
one  little  field  of  study,  while  they  leave,  in  a  state  of  na- 
ture, by  far  the  most  valuable  portion  of  the  intellectual 
inheritance  to  which  they  were  born.  If  these  speculations 


484  ON  THE  CULTURE  OF  CERTAIN  [l^ssay  IV 

of  mine  concerning  the  powers  of  the  understanding, 
possess  any  peculiar  or  characteristical  merit,  it  arises,  in 
my  own  opinion,  chiefly  from  their  tendency  (by  affording 
the  student  a  general  knowledge  of  the  treasures  which 
lie  within  himself,  and  of  the  means  by  which  he  may 
convert  them  to  his  use  and  pleasure-)  to  develop,  on  a 
greater  scale  than  has  been  commonly  attempted,  all  the 
various  capacities  of  the  mind.  It  is  by  such  a  plan  of 
study  alone,  that  the  intellectual  character  can  attain,  in 
every  part,  its  fair  and  just  proportions;  and  we  may  rest 
assured,  that  wherever  these  are  distorted  from  their  pro- 
per shape  or  dimensions,  the  dignity  of  the  man  is  so  far 
lowered,  and  his  happiness  impaired.  It  was  with  these 
views,  chiefly,  that  I  was  led  to  attempt,  in  another  publi- 
cation, as  comprehensive  a  survey  of  the  principles  of  hu- 
man nature  as  my  own  acquirements  enabled  me,  how- 
ever imperfectly,  to  execute;  and  it  is  with  the  same'views, 
that,  in  the  execution  of  my  design,  I  have  occasionally 
stopped  short  at  what  appeared  to  myself  the  most  inter- 
esting and  commanding  stations,  in  order  to  open  to  the 
companions  of  my  journey,  such  vistas  on  either  hand, 
as  might  afford  them  a  glimpse  of  the  fertility  and  beauty 
of  the  regions  through  which  they  are  travelling.  This 
consideration  will,  I  hope,  suggest  an  apology  for  what 
may  to  some  appear  digressions  from  the  principal  line  of 
inquiry  pursued  in  that  work;  as  well  as  for  the  space 
which  I  have  allotted,  in  this  volume,  to  my  discussions 
concerning  the  objects  and  the  principle  of  Taste. 

To  such  students  as  wish  to  prosecute  the  philosophy 
of  the  human  mind,  the  subject  to  which  these  last  dis- 
cussions relate,  possesses  many  additional  recommenda- 


vhap.  I.]  INTELLECTUAL  HABITS,  See.  485 

tions.  While  it  affords  a  pleasing  avenue  to  their  favourite 
department  of  knowledge,  it  turns  the  attention  to  a  very 
numerous  class  of  phenomena,  without  a  knowledge  of 
which  it  is  impossible  to  form  a  just  idea,  either  of  the 
intellectual  or  moral  constitution  of  human  nature.  But, 
what  is  of  far  greater  consequence  to  themselves,  con- 
sidered individually,  it  furnishes  (as  will  appear  more  fully 
in  the  course  of  some  of  my  future  inquiries)  the  most 
effectual  of  all  remedies  for  those  peculiarities  of  judg- 
ment and  of  feeling,  which  are  the  natural  consequences 
of  metaphysical  pursuits,  when  indulged  in  to  an  excess. 
In  cases  where  the  cultivation  of  imagination  and  of  taste 
has  been  altogether  neglected  in  early  life,  I  would  beg 
leave  to  recommend  the  study  of  philosophical  criticism, 
as  the  most  convenient  link  for  connecting  habits  of  ab- 
stract thought  with  these  lighter  and  more  ornamental  ac- 
complishments; and,  although  it  would  be  too  much  to 
promise,  to  a  person  whose  youth  has  been  spent  in  meta- 
physical disquisition,  that  he  may  yet  acquire  a  complete 
relish  for  the  intellectual  pleasures  which  he  has  so  long 
overlooked,  he  may  be  confidently  assured,  that  enough 
is  still  within  his  reach,  to  rccompence  amply  the  time 
and  pains  employed  in  its  pursuit.  Even  if  little  should 
be  gained  in  point  of  positive  enjoyment,  his  speculative 
knowledge  of  the  capacities  of  the  mind,  cannot  fail  to  be 
greatly  and  usefully  enlarged.  A  sense  of  his  limited 
powers  will  produce  that  diffidence  in  his  own  judgment, 
which  is  one  of  the  most  important  lessons  of  philosophy; 
and,  by  engaging  his  attention  to  his  personal  defects, 
may  be  expected  to  render  his  plans  of  education,  for 
those  who  are  to  come  after  him,  more  comprehensive  and 


486  ON  THE  CULTURE  OP  CERTAIN  [Essty  IV. 

enlightened  than  that  which  was  followed  by  his  own  in- 
structors. 

In  thus  recommending  the  study  of  philosophical  criti- 
cism as  a  preparation  for  the  culture  of  the  arts  to  which 
imagination  and  taste  are  subservient,  I  am  perfectly 
sensible  that  I  propose  an  inversion  of  what  may,  in  one 
point  of  view,  be  regarded  as  the  order  of  nature:  but, 
in  die  instances  now  in  question,  the  mind  is  supposed  to 
be  in  a  morbid  or  mutilated  state;  and  the  effect  to  be 
produced  is  the  development  of  powers  and  capacities 
which  have  never  yet  been  unfolded.  In  such  circum- 
stances, we  must  necessarily  avail  ourselves  of  the  aid  of 
such  habits  as  happen  to  be  already  formed,  in  order  to 
call  forth  whatever  faculties  and  principles  are  still  want- 
ing to  complete  the  intellectual  system. 

In  cases,  on  the  other  hand,  in  which  the  imagination 
or  the  taste  may  be  suspected  to  have  gained  an  undue 
ascendant  over  the  other  powers  of  the  understanding,  the 
Philosophy  of  the  Human  Mind  (supposing  the  attention 
to  be  judiciously  and  skilfully  led  to  it,  and  the  intellec- 
tual capacities  not  to  be  altogether  unequal  to  the  attempt), 
must  necessarily  prove  the  most  profitable  and  interesting 
of  all  studies;  and  for  this  purpose,  that  branch  of  it 
which  relates  to  philosophical  criticism  forms  a  connecting 
link,  of  which  it  is  much  easier  for  an  instructor  to  avail 
himself,  than  when  the  curiosity  is  to  be  enticed  (as  was 
before  proposed)  in  the  contrary  direction.  The  plan  of 
study  here  suggested  is  copied  from  the  order  of  Nature 
herself;  the  curiosity  being  led  from  known  and  familiar 
phenomena  to  an  investigation  of  their  general  laws. 

Nor  do  I  apprehend,  that  there  is  any  danger  of  weak- 


Chap.  I.]  INTELLECTUAL  HABITS,  &c.  487 

ening  the  pleasures  of  imagination,  by  thus  philosophiz- 
ing concerning  their  sources;  notwithstanding  what  Mr. 
Burke  has  alleged  in  support  of  this  conclusion,  in  the 
following  very  curious  passage.  I  call  it  curious,  as  it  ap- 
pears to  myself  to  be  much  more  strongly  marked  with 
enthusiasm  and  extravagance,  than  with  good  sense  and 
sober  reflection.  In  point  of  mere  expression,  it  is  un- 
questionably one  of  the  happiest  in  Mr.  Burke's  writings; 
and  even,  in  point  of  thought,  I  am  far  from  considering 
it  as  altogether  destitute  of  truth. 

"  The  pleasures  of  imagination  are  much  higher  than 
"  any  which  are  derived  from  a  rectitude  of  the  judgment. 
"  The  judgment  is,  for  the  greater  part,  employed  in 
"  throwing  stumbling-blocks  in  the  way  of  the  imagina- 
"  tion,  in  dissipating  the  scenes  of  its  enchantment,  and  in 
"  tying  us  down  to  the  disagreeable  yoke  of  our  reason; 
"  for  almost  the  only  pleasure  that  men  have  in  judging 
"  better  than  others,  consists  in  a  sort  of  conscious  pride 
"and  superiority,  which  arises  from  thinking  rightly;  but 
"  then,  this  is  an  indirect  pleasure;  a  pleasure  which  does 
"  not  immediately  result  from  the  object  which  is  under 
''  contemplation.  In  the  morning  of  our  days,  when  the 
'■  senses  are  unworn  and  tender,  w^hen  the  whole  man  is 
"  awake  in  every  part,  and  the  gloss  of  novelty  fresh  upon 
"  all  the  objects  that  surround  us,  how  lively  at  that  time 
"  are  our  sensations,  but  how  false  and  inaccurate  the  judg- 
*'  ments  we  form  of  things?  I  despair  of  ever  receiving  the 
"  same  degree  of  pleasure  from  the  most  excellent  perfor- 
"  mances  of  genius,  which  I  felt,  at  that  age,  from  pieces 
*'  which  my  present  judgment  regards  as  trifling  and  con- 
*'  temptible.  Every  trivial  cause  of  pleasure  is  apt  to  affect 


488  ON  tHE  CULTURE  OF  CERTAIN  [Essay  IV. 

"  the  man  of  too  sanguine  a  complexion;  his  appetite  is 
"  too  keen  to  suffer  his  tiiste  to  be  delicate;  and  he  is  in 
"  all  respects  what  Ovid  says  of  himself  in  love: 

"  Molle  meum  levibus  cor  est  violabile  telis, 
"  Et  semper  causa  est,  cur  ego  semper  amem." 

In  this  passage,  the  very  eloquent  writer  states  the  plea- 
sures of  imagination,  and  those  connected  with  the  exer- 
cise of  reason,  as  much  more  exclusive  of  each  other, 
than  seems  to  me  consistent  with  fact.  Indeed,  I  am 
strongly  inclined  to  think  (although  I  do  not  mean  at  pre- 
sent to  enter  into  the  argument),  that  they  are  both  enjoy- 
ed in  their  greatest  perfection,  when  properly  combined 
together.  The  pleasures  which  Burke  has  so  finely  and 
pathetically  touched  upon,  as  peculiar  to  the  imagina- 
tion in  the  morning  of  our  days,  are  the  effects,  not  of  the 
weakness  of  our  reasoning  powers,  but  of  novelty,  of 
hope,  of  gaiety,  and  of  a  great  variety  of  other  adventi- 
tious causes,  which  then  concur  to  enhance  the  enjoy- 
ment; and  with  which  the  intellectual  pleasures  which 
come  afterwards  (so  unfortunately,  as  Burke  seems  to 
suppose)  to  cooperate,  are  by  no  means,  in  the  nature 
of  things,  incompatible,  however  rarely  they  may  be 
combined  in  early  youth.  I  question  much,  whether,  in 
the  picture  he  has  here  drawn,  the  numberless  other 
enjoyments,  which  distinguish  that  happy  stage  of  life, 
did  not  contribute  powerfully  to  exalt  in  his  concep- 
tions that  particular  class  of  pleasures,  on  the  memory 
of  which  he  dwells  with  so  much  rapture;  and  whether, 
in  estimating  tlieir  comparative  intenseness  at  different 

2 


Chap.  1.3  INTELLECTUAL  HABITS,  &c  489 

periods,  he  made  due  allowances  for  the  effects  of  associ- 
ation in  modifying  all  our  recollections  of  the  past,  and 
more  particularly  of  our  tenderest  years.  I  can  easily  con- 
ceive, that  a  man  of  taste  should  now  persuade  himself 
that,  when  a  boy,  he  read  Black  more's  Arthur,  with  far 
greater  pleasure  than  that  which  he  receives  at  present 
from  the  iEneid  or  Paradise  Lost;  because,  in  the  former 
case,  the  original  impressions  received  from  the  poem, 
rise  to  his  remembrance  with  a  thousand  borrowed 
charms:  but  I  never  can  believe,  that  the  pleasure  com- 
municated to  the  most  enthusiastic  school-boy  by  such  a 
performance,  bears,  in  fact,  any  proportion,  even  in  in- 
tenseness,  to  what  Virgil  and  Milton  must  necessarily 
impart  to  every  person  possessed  of  a  cultivated  taste  and 
an  enlightened  understanding.* — If  Reynolds  should  have 
happened,  in  his  old  age,  to  revisit  the  village  where  he 
was  born,  with  what  transport  would  he  probably  recog- 
nize the  most  indifferent  paintings  to  which  the  opportu- 
nities of  his  childhood  afforded  him  access;  and  how  apt 
would  he  be  to  overrate  the  pleasing  impressions  which 
he  first  received  from  these,  by  confounding  them  with 
the  other  attractions  of  his  native  spot!  It  is  far  from  be- 
ing unlikely  he  would  fancy,  for  the  instant,  that  he  had 
never  since  been  equally  delighted:  yet  how  extravagai^it 

*  Si  done  on  se  refroicUt  sur  les  vers  a  mesure  qu'on  avance  en  u,ge, 
ce  n'est  point  par  mepvis  pour  la  poesie;  c'est  au  contraire  par  Tidee 
de  perfection  qu'on  y  attache.  C'est  parcequ'on  a  senti  par  les  re- 
flexions, et  connu  par  I'experience,  la  distance  enonue  du  mediocre 
H  I'excellent,  qu'on  ne  peut  plus  souffrir  le  mediocre.  Mais  I'excel- 
lent  gagne  a  cette  comparaison;  moins  on  peut  lire  de  vers,  plus  on 
goute  ceux  que  le  vrai  talent  salt  produire.  II  n'y  a  que  les  vers 
sans  genie  qui  perdent  a  ce  refroidissement,  et  ce  n'est  pas  la  un 
grand  malheur.— D'Alembevt.  Reflexions  sur  la  Poesie. 

3Q 


490  ON  THE  CULTURE  OF  CERTAIN  [Essay  IV. 

would  be  the  illusion,  to  compare  any  gratification  of 
which  his  inexperienced  mind  could  possibly  be  suscep- 
tible, with  what  he  enjoyed  at  that  moment  of  his  after 
life,  so  admirably  fancied  by  the  poet: 

"  When  first  the  Vatican 
«  Unbarr'd  its  gates,  and  to  his  raptur'd  eye 
«  Gave  Raffaelle's  glories!" 

The  passive  gratifications  connected  with  the  sensible 
impression  of  visible  objects,  were  probably  then  much 
impaired  by  long  use  and  habit;  but  how  trifling  this 
abatement,  in  the  general  cflfect,  when  compared  with 
the  intellectual  pleasures  so  copiously  superadded  by  his 
Experience  and  observation? — by  his  professional  studies; 
by  his  own  practice  as  a  painter;  by  his  powers  of  judg- 
ment, comparison,  and  reasoning;  by  his  philosophical 
curiosity  concerning  the  principles  of  his  favourite  art 
and  the  genius  of  this  particular  artist;  in  short,  by  every 
faculty  and  principle  belonging  to  a  rational  and  sensitive 
being,  to  which  such  an  occasion  could  possibly  afford  any 
exercise?  The  greater  the  number  of  such  intellectual 
enjoyments,  that  we  can  contrive  to  attach  to  those  ob- 
jects which  fall  under  the  province  of  Taste,  the  more 
powerful  must  the  effect  of  these  objects  become: — Nor 
would  I  be  understood  to  exclude,  in  this  observation, 
the  pleasures  connected  with  the  severer  sciences  that 
regulate  the  mechanical  processes  of  the  different  ai'ts. 
Akenside  has  taken  notice  of  the  additional  charms  which 
physical  science  lends  even  to  the  beauties  of  nature;  and 
has  illustrated  this  by  an  example,  which  to  me  has  al- 
ways appeared  peculiarly  fortunate, — the  redoubled  de- 


Chap.  I]  INTELLECTUAL  HABITS,  &c.  491 

light  which  he  himself  experienced,  when  he  first  looked 
at  the  rainbow,  after  studying  the  Newtonian  theory  of 
light  and  colours: 

"  Nor  ever  yet 
"  The  melting  rainbow's  vermeil-tinctur'd  hues, 
"  To  me  have  shone  so  pleasing,  as  when  first 
"  The  hand  of  Science  pointed  out  the  path 
*'  In  which  the  sun-beams,  gleaming  from  the  west, 
"  Fall  on  the  watry  cloud,  whose  darksome  veil 
"  Involves  the  orient."* 

But  waving  all  these  considerations,  and  granting  Mr. 
Burke's  general  doctrine  to  be  true,  that  the  pleasures  of 
imagination  are  enjoj'ed  with  the  most  exquisite  delight, 
when  they  are  altogether  uncontrouled  by  the  reasoning 
faculty,  the  practical  lesson  will  still  be  found,  on  either 
supposition,  to  be  exactly  the  same;  for  it  is  only  by 
combining  the  pleasures  arising  from  both  parts  of  our 
frame,  that  the  duration  of  the  former  can  be  prolonged 
beyond  the  thoughtless  period  of  youth;  or  that  they  can 
be  enjoyed  even  then^  for  any  length  of  time,  without 
ending  in  satiety  and  languor.  The  activity  which  always 
accompanies  the  exercise  of  our  reasoning  powers  seems, 
in  fact,  to  be  a  zest  essentially  necessary,  for  enlivening 
the  comparatively  indolent  state  of  mind,  which  the  plea- 
sures of  imagination  and  of  taste  have  a  tendency  to  en- 
courage. 

I  will  venture  to  add,  however  contrary  to  the  prevail- 
ing opinion  on  this  subject,  that  by  a  judicious  combina- 
tion of  the  pleasures  of  reason  with  those  of  the  imagina- 
tion, the  vigour  of  the  latter  faculty  may  be  preserved, 

*  Note  (R  r). 


492  ON  THE  CULTURE  OF  CERTAIN  [Essay  1^'. 

in  a  great  measure,  unimpaired,  even  to  the  more  ad- 
vanced periods  of  life.  According  to  the  common  doctrine, 
its  gradual  decline,  after  die  short  season  of  youth,  is  not 
merely  the  natural  consequence  of  growing  reason  and 
experience,  but  the  necesbary  effect  of  our  physical  or- 
ganization: And  yet,  numberless  examples,  in  direct 
opposition  to  this  conclusion,  must  immediately  occur  to 
cver}'^  person,  at  all  acquainted  with  literary  history.  But 
as  I  must  not  enter  here  into  details  with  respect  to  these, 
I  shall  content  myself  with  a  short  quotation  from  Sir 
Joshua  Reynolds,  whose  opinion  on  this  point,  I  am 
happy  to  find,  coincides  entirely  with  my  own;  and  whose 
judgment,  concerning  a  matter  of  fact,  so  intimately  con- 
nected with  his  ordinary  habits  of  observation  and  of 
thought,  is  justly  entitled  to  much  deference.  His  opinion 
too,  it  is  to  be  remarked,  is  not  only  stated  with  perfect 
confidence;  but  the  prejudice,  to  which  it  stands  opposed, 
is  treated  with  contempt  and  ridicule,  as  not  entitled  to  a 
serious  refutation. 

"  We  will  allow  a  poet  to  express  his  meaning,  when 
"  his  meaning  is  not  well  known  to  himself,  with  a  cer- 
"  tain  degree  of  obscurity,  as  it  is  one  source  of  the  sub- 
"  lime.  But  when,  in  plain  prose,  we  gravely  talk  of  at- 
*'  tending  to  times  and  seasons  when  the  imagination 
*'  shoots  with  the  greatest  vigour;  whether  at  the  summer 
"  solstice  or  the  equinox;  sagaciously  observing,  how 
"  much  the  wild  freedom  and  liberty  of  imagination  is 
"  cramped  by  attention  to  vulgar  rules;  and  how  this  same 
'^  imagination  begins  to  grow  dim  in  advanced  age, 
"  smothered  and  deadened  by  too  much  judgment: — 
*'  when  we  talk  such  language,  and  entertain  such  senti- 


Chap.  1.3  INTELLECTUAL  HABITS,  &c.  49S 

"  ments  as  these,  we  generally  rest  contented  with  mere 
"  words,  or  at  best  entertain  notions,  not  only  groundless, 
"  but  pernicious." 

"  I  can  believe,  that  a  man,  eminent  when  young 

*'  for  possessing  poetical  imagination,  may,  from  having 
**  taken  another  road,  so  neglect  its  cultivatioii  us  to  shew 
**  less  of  its  powers  in  his  latter  life.  But  I  am  persuaded, 
*'  that  scarce  a  poet  is  to  be  found,  from  Homer  down  to 
'*  Dryden,  who  preserved  a  sound  mind  in  a  sound  bod}', 
*'  and  continued  practising  his  profession  to  the  very  last, 
"  whose  latter  works  are  not  as  replete  with  the  fire  of 
"  imagination,  as  those  which  were  produced  in  his  more 
"  youthful  days."* 

After  all,  however,  it  cannot  be  denied,  that  the  differ- 
ences among  individuals,  in  the  natural  history  of  this 
power,  are  immense;  and  that  instances  very  frequently 
occur,  from  which  the  prejudice  novv  under  consideration 
seems,  on  a  superficial  view,  to  receive  no  small  coun- 
tenance. If  examples  have  now  and  then  appeared  of  old 
men  continuing  to  display  it  in  its  full  perfection,  how 
many  are  the  cases,  in  which,  after  a  short  promise  of  un- 
common exuberance,  the  sources  of  nourishment  have 
seemed  all  at  once  to  dry  up,  and  the  plant  to  wither  to 
its  very  roots,  without  the  hope  or  the  possibility  of  a  re- 
vival?— In  instances  of  this  last  description,  I  could  almost 
venture  to  assert,  that  if  circumstances  be  accuiately  ex- 
amined, it  will  invariably  be  found,  that  a  lively  imagina- 
tion is  united  with  a  weak  judgment;  with  scanty  stores 
of  acquired  knowledge,  and  with  little  industry  to  sup- 
ply the  defect.  The  consequence  is,  that  the  materials, 

*  Discourse  delivered  10th  Dec.  1776. 


494  ox  THE  CULTURE  OF  CERTAIN  [Essay  IV. 

which  it  is  the  province  of  imagination  to  modify  and  to 
combine,  are  soon  exhausted;  the  internal  resources  of 
reason  and  meditation  are  wanting;  and  the  imagination 
either  disappears  altogether,  or  degenerates  into  child- 
ishness and  folly.  In  those  poets  and  other  artists,  on  the 
contrary,  who  have  retained  to  the  last  all  the  powers  of 
their  genius,  Imagination  will  be  found  to  be  one  only 
of  the  many  endowments  and  habits,  which  constituted 
their  intellectual  superiority; — an  understanding  enriched 
every  moment  by  a  new  accession  of  information  from 
without^  and  fed  by  a  perennial  spring  of  new  ideas 
from  within; — a  systematical  pursuit  of  the  same  object 
through  the  whole  of  life,  profiting,  at  every  step,  by  the 
lessons  of  its  own  experience,  and  the  recollection  of  its 
own  errors; — above  all,  the  steady  exercise  of  reason  and 
good  sense  in  controuling,  guiding,  and  stimulating  this 
important,  but  subordinate  faculty;  subjecting  it  betimes 
to  the  wholesome  discipline  of  rules,  and,  by  a  constant 
application  of  it  to  its  destined  purposes,  preserving  to  it 
entire,  all  the  advantages  which  it  received  from  the  hand 
of  nature. 


Chap,  n.3  RJTELMICTUAL  HABITS,  &c  495 


CHAPTER  SECOND. 

CONTINUATION  OF  THE  SUBJECT. REPLY  TO  AN  OBJECTION  FOUND- 
ED ON  THE  SUPPOSED  VIGOUR  OF  IMAGINATION  IN  THE  EARLIER 
PERIODS  OF  SOCIETY. 

IT  now  only  remains  for  me,  before  I  conclude  these 
speculations,  to  obviate  an  objection  against  a  supposition, 
involved  in  many  of  the  preceding  reasonings,  and  more 
especially  in  the  remarks  which  have  been  just  stated,  on 
the  possibility  of  prolonging  the  pleasures  of  Imagination, 
after  the  enthusiasm  of  youth  has  subsided.  The  objec- 
tion I  allude  to,  is  founded  on  a  doctrine  which  has  been 
commonly,  or  rather  universally  taught  of  late;  according 
to  which  Imagination  is  represented  as  in  its  state  of 
highest  perfection  in  those  rude  periods  of  society,  when 
the  faculties  shoot  up  wild  and  free.  If  imagination  re- 
quire culture  for  its  development;  and  if,  in  the  mind  of 
an  individual,  it  may  be  rendered  more  vigorous  and 
luxuriant  when  subjected  to  the  discipline  of  reason  and 
good  sense,  what  account  (it  may  be  asked)  shall  we  give 
of  those  figurative  strains  of  oratory  which  have  been 
quoted  from  the  harangues  of  American  Indians;  and  of 
those  relics  of  the  poetry  of  rude  nations,  which  it  is  the 
pride  of  human  genius,  in  its  state  of  greatest  refinement, 
to  study  and  to  imitate? 


496  ON  THE  CULTURE  OF  CERTAIN  [Essay  IV, 

In  order  to  form  correct  notions  with  respect  to  this 
question,  it  is  necessary  to  consider,  that  when  1  speak  of 
a  cultivated  imagination,  I  mean  an  imagination  which 
has  acquired  such  a  degree  of  activity  as  to  delight  in  its 
own  exertions;  to  delight  in  conjuring  up  those  ideal  com- 
binations which  withdraw  the  mind  from  the  present  ob- 
jects of  sense,  and  transport  it  into  a  new  world.  Now,  of 
this  activity  and  versatility  of  imagination,  I  find  no  traces 
among  rude  tribes.  Their  diction  is,  indeed,  highly  meta- 
phorical; but  the  metaphors  they  employ  are  either  the 
unavoidable  consequences  of  an  imperfect  language,  or 
they  are  inspired  by  the  mechanical  impulse  of  passion. 
In  both  instances,  imagination  operates  to  a  certain  degree; 
but  in  neither  is  imagination  the  primary  cause  of  the 
effect;  inasmuch  as  in  the  one,  it  is  excited  by  passion, 
and  in  the  other,  called  forth  by  the  pressure  of  necessity. 
A  strong  confirmation  of  this  remark  may  be  drawn  from 
the  indolence  of  savages,  and  their  improvidence  concern- 
ing futurity;  a  feature  in  their  character,  in  which  all  the 
most  authentic  pictures  of  it  agree.  Dr.  Robertson  him- 
self, notwithstanding  the  countenance  which  he  has  occa- 
sionally given  to  the  doctrine  which  I  am  now  combating, 
has  stated  this  circumstance  so  very  strongly,  that  it  is 
surprising  he  was  not  led,  by  his  own  description,  to  per- 
ceive, that  his  general  conclusions  concerning  the  poet- 
ical genius  of  savages,  required  some  limitation.  "  The 
*'  thoughts  and  attention  of  a  savage  are  confined  within 
*'  the  small  circle  of  objects  immediately  conducive  to  his 
"  preservation  and  enjoyment.  Every  thing  beyond  that 
"  escapes  his  observation,  or  is  perfectly  indiftbrent  to  him. 
"  Like  a  mere  animal,  what  is  before  his  eyes  interests 

2 


Chap.  U.]  INTELLECTUAL  HABITS,  Sec.  497 

"  and  affects  him:  what  is  out  of  sight,  or  at  a  distance, 
"  makes  no  impression.  When,  on  the  approach  of  the 
'*  evening,  a  Caribbee  feels  himself  disposed  to  go  to  rest, 
"no  consideration  will  tempt  him  to  stU  his  hammoc. 
"  But,  in  the  morning,  when  he  is  sallying  out  to  the 
"  business  or  pastime  of  the  day,  he  will  part  with  it  for 
"  the  slightest  toy  that  catches  his  fancy.  At  the  close  of 
"  winter,  while  the  impression  of  what  he  has  suffered 
*'  from  the  rigour  of  the  climate,  is  fresh  in  the  mind  of 
"  the  North  American,  he  sets  himself  with  vigour  to 
"  prepare  materials  for  erecting  a  comfortable  hut  to  pro- 
"  tect  him  against  the  inclemencies  of  the  succeeding 
"  season;  but,  as  soon  as  the  weather  becomes  mild,  he 
"  forgets  what  is  past,  abandons  his  work,  and  never 
"  thinks  of  it  more,  until  the  return  of  cold  compels  him, 
"  when  too  late,  to  resume  it."  How  is  it  possible  to  re- 
concile these  facts  with  the  assertion,  that  imagination  is 
most  lively  and  vigorous  in  the  ruder  periods  of  society? 
The  indifference  of  savages  to  religious  impressions, 
gives  additional  evidence  to  the  foregoing  conclusions. 
*'  The  powers  of  their  uncultivated  understandings  are  so 
"  limited,"  (says  the  eloquent  and  faithful  historian  just 
now  quoted)  "  that  their  observations  and  reflections  reach 
"  little  beyond  the  mere  objects  of  sense.  The  numerous 
"  and  splendid  ceremonies  of  popish  worship,  as  they 
"  catch  the  eye,  please  and  interest  them;  but  when  their 
"  instructors  attempt  to  explain  the  articles  of  faith  with 
*'  which  these  external  observances  are  connected,  though 
*'  they  listen  with  patience,  they  so  little  conceive  the 
*'  meaning  of  what  they  hear,  that  their  acquiescence  does 
"  not  merit  the   name  of  belief.  Their  indifference   is 

3R 


498  OiX  THE  CULTURE  OF  CERTAIN  [Essay  IV. 

"  Still  greater  than  their  incapacity.  Attentive  only  to  the 
"  present  moment,  and  engrossed  by  the  objects  before 
*'  them,  the  Indians  so  seldom  reflect  on  what  is  past,  or 
**  take  thought  for  what  is  to  come,  that  neither  the  pro- 
"  mises  nor  threats  of  religion  make  much  impression 
"  upon  them;  and  while  their  foresight  rarely  extends  so 
*•  far  as  the  next  day,  it  is  almost  impossible  to  inspire 
**  them  with  solicitude  about  the  concerns  of  a  future 
*'  world." 

In  critical  discussions  concerning  the  poetical  relics 
which  have  been  handed  down  to  us  from  the  earlier  pe- 
riods of  society,  frequent  appeals  have  been  made  to  the 
eloquence  of  savage  orators,  as  a  proof  of  the  peculiar 
relish  with  which  the  pleasures  of  imagination  are  enjoy- 
ed by  uncultivated  minds.  But  this  inference  has  been 
drawn  from  a  very  partial  view  of  circumstances.  The 
eloquence  of  savages  (as  I  already  hinted)  is  the  natural 
offspring  of  passion  impatient  to  give  vent  to  its  feelings, 
and  struggling  with  the  restraints  of  a  scanty  vocabulary; 
and  it  implies  none  of  those  inventive  powers  which  are 
displayed  in  the  creation  of  characters,  of  situations,  of 
events,  of  ideal  scenery; — none  of  the  powers,  in  short, 
which  form  the  distinguishing  attributes  of  poetical  genius. 
In  the  mind  of  the  poet,  on  the  other  hand,  it  happens 
much  less  frequently,  that  imagination  is  inspired  by  pas- 
sion, than  passion  by  imagination;  and,  in  all  cases,  the 
specific  pleasures  of  imagination  are  most  completely  en- 
joyed when  the  passions  are  at  rest.  In  order,  besides, 
to  render  these  pleasures  a  solid  accession  to  human  hap- 
piness, it  is  necessary  that  the  individual  should  be  able, 
at  will,  so  to  apply  the  faculty  from  which  they  arise,  to 


Chap.  H.]  INTELLECTUAL  HABITS,  &&  499 

its  appropriate  objects,  as  to  find  in  its  exercise  an  unfail- 
ing source  of  delight,  whenever  he  wishes  to  enliven  the 
intervals  of  bodily  labour,  or  of  animal  indulgence; — a 
capacity,  surely,  which  is  by  no  means  implied  in  the  use 
of  that  figurative  diction  by  which  savages  are  said  to 
convey  their  ideas;  and  which  is  utterly  irreconcilable 
with  the  most  authentic  accounts  we  have  received  of  the 
great  features  of  their  intellectual  character.  On  this  oc- 
casion, we  may,  with  confidence  adopt  the  beautiful  words 
which  one  of  our  poets  has,  with  a  more  than  questionable 
propriety,  applied  to  a  gallant  and  enlightened  people,  en- 
titled to  a  very  high  rank  in  the  scale  of  European  civili- 
zation: 

«  Unknown  to  them^  when  sensual  pleasures  cloy, 
"  To  fill  the  languid  pause  with  finer  joy." 

Where  particular  circumstances,  indeed,  have  given 
any  encouragement,  among  rude  tribes,  to  the  pacific  pro- 
fession of  a  bard;  still  more,  where  an  order  of  bards  has 
formed  a  part  of  the  political  establishment,  individuals 
may  be  conceived  to  have  occasionally  arisen,  whose 
poetical  compositions  are  likely  to  increase  in  reputation 
as  the  world  grows  older.  Obvious  reasons  may  be  assign- 
ed, why  imagination  should  be  susceptible  of  culture,  at 
a  period  when  the  intellectual  powers  which  require  the 
aid  of  experience  and  observation  must  necessarily  con- 
tinue in  infancy;  and  the  very  peculiarities,  which,  in  such 
circumstances,  its  productions  exhibit,  although  they 
would  justly  be  regarded  as  blemishes  in  those  of  a  more 
refined  age,  may  interest  the  philosopher,  and  even  please 
the  critic,  as  characteristical  of  the  human  mind  in  the 


500  ON  THE  CULTURE  OF  CERTAIN  [Essay  IV. 

earlier  stages  of  its  progress.  The  same  circumstances, 
too,  which  influence  so  powerfully  the  eloquence  of  the 
savage  orator,  furnish  to  the  bard  a  language  peculiarly 
adapted  to  his  purpose,  and  in  which  the  antiquaries  of  a 
distant  age  are  to  perceive  numberless  charms  of  which 
the  author  was  unconscious.  In  the  compositions  of  such 
a  poet,  even  the  defects  of  his  taste  become,  in  the  judg- 
ment of  the  multitude,  proofs  of  the  vigour  of  his  imagi- 
nation; the  powers  of  genius,  where  they  are  irregularly 
displayed,  producing  upon  a  superficial  observer,  an  im- 
posing but  illusory  effect  in  point  of  magnitude,  similar 
to  that  of  an  ill-proportioned  human  figure,  or  of  a  build- 
ing which  violates  the  established  rules  of  architecture. 
No  prejudice  can  be  more  groundless  than  this;  and  yet 
it  seems  to  be  the  chief  foundation  of  the  common  doc- 
trine which  considers  imagination  and  taste  as  incom- 
patible with  each  other,  and  measures  the  former  by  the 
number  and  the  boldness  of  its  trespasses  against  the  latter. 
My  own  opinion,  i  acknowledge,  is,  that,  as  the  habitual 
exercise  of  imagination  is  essential  to  those  intellectual 
experiments  of  which  a  genuine  and  unborrowed  taste  is 
the  slow  result,  so,  on  the  other  hand,  that  it  is  in  the 
productions  of  genius,  when  disciplined  by  an  enlighten- 
ed taste,  that  the  noblest  efforts  of  imaghiation  are  to  be 
found. 

Nor  is  there  any  thing  in  these  conclusions,  at  all  in- 
consistent with  what  I  have  already  asserted,  concerning 
the  dormant  and  inactive  state  of  imagination  in  the  mind 
of  a  savage;  or  with  the  account  given,  in  the  preceding 
Essay,  of  the  gradual  process  by  which  taste  is  formed. 
To  a  professional  bard,  in  whatever  period  of  society  he 


Chap.  H.]  I?:TELLECTUAL  habits,  inc.  501 

may  appear,  the  exercise  of  his  imagination,  and,  as  far 
as  circumstances  may  allow,  the  culture  of  his  taste,  must 
necessarily  be  the  great  objects  of  his  study;  and  there- 
fore, no  inference  can  be  drawn  from  his  attainments  and 
habits  to  those  of  the  mass  of  the  community  to  which  he 
belongs.  The  blind  admiration  with  which  his  rude  essays 
are  commonly  received  by  his  contemporaries,  and  the 
ideas  of  inspiration  and  of  prophetic  gifts  which  they  are 
apt  to  connect  with  the  efforts  of  his  invention,  are  proofs 
of  rhis;  shewing  evidently,  that  he  is  then  considered  as 
a  being,  to  whose  powers  nothing  analogous  exists  in  the 
ordinary  endowments  of  human  nature.  In  such  a  state 
of  manners  as  ours,  when  the  advantages  of  education 
are  in  some  degree  imparted  to  all,  the  institution  of  a 
separate  order  of  bards  would  be  impossible;  and  we  be- 
gin even  to  call  in  question  the  old  opinion,  that  poetical 
genius  is  more  the  offspring  of  nature  than  of  study.  The 
increasing  frequency  of  a  certain  degree  of  poetical  talent, 
both  among  the  higher  and  the  lower  orders  of  the  com- 
munity, renders  this  conclusion  not  unnatural,  in  the  pre- 
sent times;  and  the  case  seems  to  have  been  somewhat 
the  same  in  the  Augustan  age: 

"  Scribimus  indocti  doctique  poemata  passim." 

If  these  remarks  are  well  founded,  the  diffusion  of  the 
Pleasures  of  Imagination^  as  well  as  the  diffusion  of  know- 
ledge^ is  to  be  ranked  among  the  blessings  for  which  we 
are  indebted  to  the  progress  of  society: — And  it  is  a  cir- 
cumstance extremely  worthy  of  consideration,  that  the 
same  causes  which  render  imagination  more  productive  of 
pleasure,  render  it  less  productive  of  pain  than  before.  In- 


502  ON  THE  CULTURE  OF  CERTAIN  [Essay  IV. 

deed,  I  am  much  inclined  to  doubt,  whether,  without  the 
controlling  guidance  of  reason,  the  pleasures  or  the  pains 
of  imagination  are  likely  to  preponderate.  Whatever  the 
result  may  be  in  particular  instances,  it  certainly  depends, 
in  a  great  measure,  upon  accidents  unconnected  with  the 
general  state  of  manners.  I  cannot,  therefore,  join  in  the 
sentiment  so  pleasingly  and  fancifully  expressed  in  the 
following  lines  of  Voltaire;  in  which  (by  the  way)  a  strong 
resemblance  is  observable  to  a  passage  already  quoted 
from  Burke: 

"  O  I'heureux  tems  que  celui  de  ces  fables, 
"  Des  bons  demons,  des  esprits  familiers, 
"  Des  farfadets,  aux  mortels  secourables! 
"  On  ecoutait  tous  ces  faits  admirables 
"  Dans  son  chateau,  pres  d'un  large  foyer: 
"  Le  pere  et  I'oncle,  et  la  mere  et  la  fille, 
"  Et  les  voisins,  et  toute  la  famille, 
"  Ouvraient  roreille  a  Monsieur  TAumonier. 
"  Qui  leur  faisait  des  contes  de  sorcier. 

"  On  a  banne  les  demons  et  les  fees; 
^  Sous  la  raison  les  graces  etouffees, 
"Livrent  nos  cceurs  a  I'insipidite; 
"  Le  raisonner  tristement  s'accredite; 
"  On  court,  helas!  apres  la  verite; 
"  Ahl  croyez  moi,  Terreur  a  son  merite/'* 

For  my  own  part,  I  think  I  can  now  enjoy  these  tales 
of  wonder  with  as  lively  a  relish  as  the  most  credulous 
devotee  in  the  superstitious  times  which  gave  them  birth: 
Nor  do  I  value  the  pleasure  which  they  afford  me  the 
less,  that  my  reason  teaches  me  to  regard  them  as  vehi- 

*  Contes  de  Guillaume  Vade. 


Chap.  II..]  INTELLECTUAL  HABITS,  &c.  503 

cles  of  amusement,  not  as  articles  of  faith. — But  it  is  not 
reason  alone  that  operates,  in  an  age  like  the  present,  in 
correcting  the  credulity  of  our  forefathers.  Imagination 
herself  furnishes  the  most  effectual  of  all  remedies  against 
those  errors  of  which  she  was,  in  the  first  instance,  the 
cause;  the  versatile  activity  which  she  acquires  by  con- 
stant and  varied  exercise,  depriving  superstition  of  the 
most  formidable  engine  it  was  able  heretofore  to  employ, 
for  subjugating  the  infant  understanding.  In  proportion 
to  the  number  and  diversity  of  the  objects  to  which  she 
turns  her  attention,  the  dangers  are  diminished  which  are 
apt  to  arise  from  her  illusions,  when  they  are  suffered 
always  to  run  in  the  same  channel;  and  in  this  manner, 
while  the  sources  of  enjoyment  become  more  copious 
and  varied,  the  concomitant  pains  and  inconveniencies 
disappear. 

This  conclusion  coincides  with  a  remark  in  that  chap- 
ter of  the  Philosophy  of  the  Human  Mind  which  relates 
to  Imagination; — that,  by  a  frequent  and  habitual  exer- 
cise of  this  faculty,  we  at  once  cherish  its  vigour,  and 
bring  it  more  and  more  under  our  command. — "  As  we 
"  can  withdraw  the  attention  at  pleasure  from  objects  of 
"  sense,  and  transport  ourselves  into  a  world  of  our  own, 
"  so,  when  we  wish  to  moderate  our  enthusiasm,  we  can 
"  dismiss  the  objects  of  imagination,  and  return  to  our 
"  ordinary  perceptions  and  occupations.  But  in  a  mind 
'*  to  which  these  intellectual  visions  are  not  familiar,  and 
"  which  borrows  them  completely  from  the  genius  of 
"  another,  imagination,  when  once  excited,  becomes 
"  perfectly  ungovernable,  and  produces  something  like 
*^  a  temporary   insanity." — "  Hence"   (I    have   added) 


504  ON  THE  CULTUUE,  &c.  [fissay  IV. 

"  the  wonderful  effects  of  popular  eloquence  on  the  lower 
"  orders;  effects  which  are  much  more  remarkable  than 
"  what  it  produces  on  men  of  education." 

In  the  history  of  Imat^ination,  nothing  appears  to  me 
more  interesting  than  the  fact  stated  in  the  foregoing 
passage;  suggesting  plainly  this  practical  lesson,  that  the 
early  and  systematical  culture  of  this  faculty,  while  it  is 
indispensably  necessary  to  its  future  strength  and  acti- 
vity, is  the  most  effectual  of  all  expedients  for  subjecting 
it,  in  the  more  serious  concerns  of  life,  to  the  supremacy 
of  our  rational  powers.  And,  in  truth,  I  apprehend  it  will 
be  found,  that,  by  accustoming  it  in  childhood  to  a  fre- 
quent change  of  its  objects  (one  set  of  illusions  being 
continually  suffered  to  efface  the  impressions  of  another), 
the  understanding  may  be  more  successfully  invigorated 
than  by  any  precepts  addressed  directly  to  itself;  and  the 
terrors  of  the  nursery,  where  they  have  unfortunately 
overclouded  the  infant  mind,  gradually  and  insensibly 
dispelled,  in  the  first  dawning  of  reason.  The  momentary 
belief  with  which  the  visions  of  imagination  are  always 
accompanied,  and  upon  which  many  of  its  pleasures  de- 
pend, will  continue  unshaken;  while  that  permanent  or 
habitual  belief  which  they  are  apt  to  produce,  where  it 
gains  the  ascendant  over  our  nobler  principles,  will  va- 
nish for  ever. 

But  the  subject  grows  upon  me  in  extent,  and  rises  in 
importance,  as  I  proceed;  and  the  size  of  my  Volume  re- 
minds me,  that  it  is  now  more  than  time  to  bring  these 
speculations  to  a  close.  Here,  therefore,  I  pause  for  the 
present; — not,  however,  without  some  hope  of  soon  re- 
suming a  more  systematical  analysis  of  our  intellectual 
powers  and  capacities. 


NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


3S 


NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


NOTE  (A),  P.  65. 

1  HAT  there  are  many  words  used  in  philosophic  discourse, 
which  do  not  admit  of  logical  definition,  is  abundantly  manifest. 
This  is  the  case  with  all  those  words  that  signify  things  uncom- 
pounded,  and  consequently  unsusceptible  of  analysis; — a  pi'opo- 
sition,  one  should  think,  almost  self-evident;  and  yet  it  is  surpri- 
sing, how  very  generally  it  has  been  overlooked  by  philosophers. 

That  Aristotle  himself,  with  all  his  acuteness,  was  not  aware 
of  it,  appears  sufficiently  from  the  attempts  he  has  made  to  define 
various  words  denoting  some  of  the  simplest  and  most  elemen- 
tary objects  of  human  thought.  Of  this,  remarkable  instances 
occur  in  his  definitions  of  time  and  of  motion;  definitions  which 
were  long  the  wonder  and  admiration  of  the  learned;  but  which 
are  now  remembered  only,  from  their  singular  obscurity  and 
absurdity.  It  is  owing  to  a  want  of  attention  to  this  circumstance, 
that  metaphysicians  have  so  often  puzzled  themselves  about  the 
import  of  terms,  employed  familiarly  without  the  slightest  dan- 
ger of  mistake  by  the  most  illiterate; — imagining,  that  what  they 
could  not  define  must  involve  some  peculiar  mystery;  when,  in 
fact,  the  difficulty  of  the  definition  arose  entirely  from  the  per- 
fect simplicity  of  the  thing  to  be  defined.  Quid  sit  Tempus,  / 
(said  St.  Augustine)  si  nemo  quaerat  a  me,  scio;  si  quis  inter-  ^ 
roget,  nescio. 

According  to  Dr.  Reid,  Des  Cartes  and  Locke  are  the  earliest 
writers  by  whom  this  fundamental  principle  in  logic  was  stated; 


508  NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

but  the  remark  is  by  no  means  correct.  I  do  not  k  .low  if  Mr. 
Locke  hi  SI  II  Mas  expressed  it  more  clearly  than  our  celebrated 
Scottish  lawyer  Lord  Stair,  in  a  work  published  several  years 
before  the  Essay  on  Human  understanding;  and  it  is  worthy  of 
observation,  that,  so  far  from  ascribing  the  merit  of  it  to  Des 
Cartes,  he  censures  that  philosopher,  in  common  with  Aristotle, 
for  a  want  of  due  attention  to  it. 

"  Nccesse  est  quosdam  terminos  esse  adeo  claros,  \it  clariori- 
"  bus  elucidari  nequeant,  alioquin  infinitus  esset  progressus  in 
"  terminorum  explicatione,  adco  ut  nulla  possit  esse  clara  cogni- 
"  tio,  nee  ullus  certo  scire  possit  alterius  conceptus." 

"  Tales  termini  sunt  Cogitatio,  Motus,  quibus  non  dantur  cla- 
"  riores  conceptus  aut  termini,  et  brevi  apparebit,  quam  inutiliter 
"  Aristoteles  et  Cartesius  conati  stmt  definire  Motum." 

Physiologia  Nova  Experimentalis,  Sec.  (p.  9.)  Authore  D.  de 
Stair,  Carolo  11.  Britanniarum  Rcgi  a  Consiliis  Juris  et  Status. 
Ludg.  Batav,  1686. — See  also  p.  79  of  the  same  book. 

Locke's  Essay  (as  appears  from  the  dedication)  was  first  print- 
ed in  1689.  Lord  Stair's  work  must  have  been  published  a  con- 
siderable time  before.  The  Latin  translation  of  it  (which  is  the 
only  edition  of  the  book  I  have  seen)  is  dated  1686;  and  bears, 
on  the  title  page,  that  the  original  had  appeared  before.  A'u/ier 
Lati7iitaie  donata. 

According  to  a  learned  and  ingenious  writer,  Aristotle  himself 
"had  taught,  before  Mr.  Locke,  that  what  the  latter  calls  simple 
"  ideas  could  not  be  defined." — (Translation  of  Aristotle's  Ethics 
and  Politics,  by  Dr.  Gillies,  Vol.  L  p.  138,  2d  edit.)  The  pas- 
sages, however,  to  which  he  has  referred,  seem  to  me  much  less 
decisive  evidence  in  support  of  this  assertion,  than  Aristotle's 
own  definitions  are  against  it.  Nor  can  I  bring  myself  to  alter 
this  opinion,  even  by  Dr.  Gillies's  attempt  to  elucidate  the  cele- 
brated definition  of  Motion. 


NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS.  509 


NOTE  (B),  P.   83. 

It  may  be  of  use  to  some  of  my  readers,  before  proceeding  to 
the  third  chapter,  to  read  with  attention,  the  following  extracts 
from  Dr.  Reid. 

"  The  word  idea  occurs  so  frequently  in  modern  philosophical 
"  writings  upon  the  mind,  and  is  so  ambiguous  in  its  meaning, 
"  that  it  is  necessary  to  make  some  observations  upon  it.  There 
"  are  chiefly  two  meanings  of  this  word  in  modern  authors,  a  po- 
"  pular  and  a  philosophical. 

"  First,  In  popular  language,  idea  signifies  the  same  thing 
"  as  conception,  apprehension,  notion.  To  have  an  idea  of  any 
"  thing,  is  to  conceive  it.  To  have  a  distinct  idea  is  to  conceive  it 
"  distinctly.  To  have  no  idea  of  it,  is  not  to  conceive  it  at  all. 

"  When  the  word  is  taken  in  this  popular  sense,  no  man  can 
"  possibly  doubt,  whether  he  has  ideas.  For  he  that  doubts  must 
"  think,  and  to  think  is  to  have  ideas. 

*'  Secondly,  According  to  the  philosophical  meaning  of  the 
"  word  idea,  it  does  not  signify  that  act  of  the  mind  which  we 
•'  call  thought  or  conception,  but  some  object  of  thought.  Ideas, 
"  according  to  Mr,  I.ocke,  (whose  frequent  use  of  this  word  has 
"  probably  been  the  occasion  of  its  being  adopted  into  common 
"  language)  '  are  nothing  but  the  immediate  objects  of  the  mind 
"  in  thinking.'  But  of  those  objects  of  thought  called  ideas,  diffe- 
"  rent  sects  of  philosophers  have  given  a  very  different  account. 

"  Mr.  Locke,  who  uses  the  word  idea  so  very  frequently,  tells 
"  us,  that  he  means  the  same  thing  by  it,  as  is  commonly  meant 
"  by  s/iecies  or  fihantasm.  Gassendi,  from  whom  Locke  bor- 
''  rowed  more  than  from  any  other  author,  says  the  same.  The 
"  words  species  and  fihantasrn,  are  terms  of  art  in  the  Peripatetic 
'<  system,  and  the  meaning  of  them  is  to  be  learned  from  it. 

"  Modern  philosophers,  as  well  as  the  Peripatetics  of  old,  have 


510  NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

"  conceived,  that  external  objects  cannot  be  the  immediate  objects 
"  of  our  thought;  that  there  must  be  some  image  of  them  in  the 
"  mind  itself,  in  which,  as  in  a  mirror,  they  are  seen.  And  the 
"  name  idea^  in  the  philosophical  sense  of  it,  is  given  to  those 
"  internal  and  immediate  objects  of  our  thoughts.  The  external 
"  thing  is  the  remote  or  mediate  object;  but  the  idea  or  image 
«  of  that  object  in  the  mind,  is  the  immediate  object,  without 
"  which  we  could  have  no  perception,  no  remembrance,  no  con- 
"  ception  of  the  mediate  object. 

"  When,  therefore,  in  common  language,  we  speak  of  having 
"  an  idea  of  any  thing,  we  mean  no  more  by  that  expression,  but 
*'  thinking  of  it.  The  vulgar  allow,  that  this  expression  implies 
"  a  mind  that  thinks;  and  an  act  of  that  mind  which  we  call 
"  thinking.  But  besides  these,  the  philosopher  conceives  the 
"  existence  of  an  idea  which  is  the  immediate  object  of  thought. 
"  The  idea  is  in  the  mind  itself,  and  can  have  no  existence  but 
"  in  a  mind  that  thinks;  but  the  I'emote  or  mediate  object  may 
"  be  something  external,  as  the  sun  or  moon;  it  may  be  some- 
*'  thing  past  or  future;  it  may  be  something  which  never  existed. 
"  This  is  the  philosophical  meaning  of  the  word  idea;  and  we 
"  may  observe,  that  this  meaning  of  that  word  is  built  upon  a 
*'  philosophical  opinion:  For  if  philosoj>hers  had  not  believed 
"  that  there  are  such  immediate  objects  of  all  our  thoughts  in  the 
*'  mind,  they  would  never  have  used  the  word  idea  to  express 
« them. 

"  I  shall  only  add  on  this  article,  that  although  I  may  have 
"  occasion  to  use  the  word  idea  in  this  philosophical  sense,  in 
"  explaining  the  opinions  of  others,  I  shall  have  no  occasion  to 
"  use  it  in  expressing  my  own,  because  I  believe  ideas,  taken  in 
"  this  sense,  to  be  a  mere  fiction  of  philosophers.  And,  in  the 
"  popular  meaning  of  the  word,  there  is  the  less  occasion  to  use 
"  it  because  the  English  words  thought,  notion,  afif)rehensionf 
"  answer  the  purposes  as  well  as  the  Greek  word  idea;  with  this 
"  advantage,  that  they  are  less  ambiguous." — (Essays  on  the  In- 
tellectual Powers,  p.  22.  et  scq) 


NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS.  511 

After  this  long  quotation  from  Dr.  Reid,  it  is  proper  to  men- 
tion, what  has  induced  me  to  make  an  occasional  use,  in  these 
Essays,  of  a  word  which  he  has  taken  so  much  pains  to  discard 
from  the  language  of  philosophy. 

My  reason  is  shortly  this,  that  finding,  after  all  he  has  written 
on  the  subject,  the  word  idea  still  maintains,  and  is  likely  long 
to  maintain  its  ground,  it  seemed  to  me  a  more  practicable  at- 
tempt to  limit  and  define  its  meaning,  than  to  banish  it  altoge- 
ther. For  this  purpose,  I  generally  couple  it  with  some  synony- 
mous word,  such  as  thought  or  notion.,  so  as  to  exclude  com- 
pletely all  the  theoretical  doctrines  usually  implied  in  it;  and  I 
cannot  help  flattering  myself  with  the  hope,  that  in  this  way,  I 
maybe  able  to  contribute  something  towards  the  gradual  extirpa- 
tion of  the  prejudices,  to  which,  in  its  philosophical  acceptation, 
it  has  hitherto  given  so  powerful  a  support. 

It  may  gratify  the  curiosity  of  some  of  my  readers,  to  be  able 
to  compare  the  language  of  Des  Cartes  concerning  ideas.,  with 
that  of  Mr.  Locke.  According  to  the  first  of  these  writers,  "  an 
"  idea  is  the  thing  thought  upon,  as  far  as  it  is  objecti-vely  in  the 
"  understanding."  Idea  est  ifisa  res  cogitata,  quatenus  est  objec- 
tive in  intellectu.  By  way  of  comment  upon  this,  he  tells  us 
afterwards,  in  reply  to  a  difficulty  started  by  one  of  his  corres- 
pondents;— ubi  advertendum,  me  loqui  de  idea  qux  nunquam  est 
extra  intellectum,  et  ratione  cujus  esee  objecti-ve  non  aliud  signi- 
ficat,  quam  esse  in  intellectu  eo  modo  quo  objecta  in  illo  esse 
solent. — (Responsio  ad  Primas  Objectiones  in  Meditationes  Car- 
tesii.) 

I  may  not  have  a  better  opportunity  of  observing  afterwards, 
that  Des  Cartes  I'ejected  entirely  that  part  of  the  Peripatetic 
system  which  accounts  for  perception  by  apecies  or  ideas  procee- 
ding from  external  things,  and  transmitted  to  the  mind  through 
the  channel  of  the  senses.  His  arguments  against  that  hypothesis 
were  so  clear  and  conclusive  that  Gravesande,  in  a  small  treatise 
published  in  1737,  speaks  of  it  as  unworthy  of  refutation:  Expio' 
sam  dudum,  de  speciebus  a  rebus  procedentibusj  et  menti  im* 


512  NOTES  AN])  ILLUSTRATIONSr. 


pressis,  sententiam  explicare  et  refellere,  inutile  credimus.*— 
(Introductio  ad  Philosophiani,  p.  98.) 

While  Des  Cartes,  however,  dissented  on  this  point,  from 
the  schoolmen,  he  maintained,  in  common  with  them,  that  what 
we  immediately  perceive  is  not  the  external  object,  but  an  idea 
or  image  of  it  in  our  mind. 

Among  our  later  writers,  I  do  not  recollect  any  who  have  en- 
tered into  so  elaborate  an  exnlanation  of  the  nature  oi  ideas,  con- 
sidered as  the  objects  of  thought,  as  the  ingenious  author  of  a 
work  entitled,  the  Light  of  Mature  Pursued.  The  following  pas- 
sage, which  he  gives  as  the  substance  of  his  own  creed  on  this 
point,  is,  I  suspect,  a  tolerably  faithful  exposition  of  prejudices 
which  still  remain  in  most  minds;  and  which  are  insensibly  im- 
bibed in  early  life,  from  the  hypothetical  phraseology  bequeathed 
to  us  by  the  schoolmen. 

"  Idea  is  the  same  as  image,  and  the  term  imagination  ini- 
"  plies  a  receptacle  of  images:  but  image  being  appropriated,  by 
"  common  use,  to  visible  objects,  could  not  well  be  extended  to 
"other  things  without  confusion;  wherefore  learned  men  have 
"  imported  the  Greek  word  idea,  signifying  image  or  appearance, 
"  to  which,  being  their  own  peculiar  property,  they  might  affix 
"  as  large  a  signification  as  they  pleased.  For  the  image  of  a 
"  sound,  or  of  goodness,  would  have  offended  our  delicacy,  but 
"the  idea  of  either  goes  down  glibly:  therefore  idea  is  the  same 
"  with  respect  to  things  in  general,  as  image  with  respect  to  ob- 
"  jects  of  vision. 

"  In  order  to  render  the  notion  of  ideas  clearer,  let  us  begin 
"  with  images.   When  a  peacock  spreads  his  tail  in  our  sight, 

*  Mr.  Hume  afterwards  relapsed  into  the  old  scholastic  language  on  this 
subject:  "  The  slightest  plu'.o'opliy  teaches  us,  that  nothing  can  ever  be 
"  present  to  the  mind  but  an  iniuge  or  perception;  and  tliat  the  senses  are 
"  only  the  inlets  through  which  tliese  are  received,  without  being  ever 
"able  to  produce  any  immediate  intercourse  between  the  mind  and  the 
"  object." — Essays. 

How  tliis  language  is  to  be  reconciled  with  the  philosophy  which  teaches, 
that  ideas  or  images  can  have  no  existence  but  in  a  mind,  Mr.  Hume  has 
not  attempted  to  explain. 

2 


NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS.  513 

♦<  we  have  a  full  view  of  the  creature  with  all  his  gaudy  plumage 
"  before  us;  the  bird  remains  at  some  distance,  but  the  light  re- 
"  fleeted  from  him  paints  an  image  upon  our  eyes,  and  the  op- 
"  tic  nerves  transmit  it  to  the  sensory.  This  image,  when  arrived 
"  at  the  ends  of  the  nerves,  becomes  an  idea,  and  gives  us  our 
"  discernment  of  the  animal;  and  after  the  bird  is  gone  out  of 
"  view,  we  can  recal  the  idea  of  him  to  perform  the  same  office 
"as  before,  though  in  a  duller  and  fainter  manner.  So,  when 
"  the  nightingale  warbles,  the  sound  reaches  our  ears,  and,  pas- 
'*  sing  through  the  auditory  nerves,  exhibits  an  idea,  affecting 
"  us  with  the  discernment  of  her  music:  and  after  she  has  given 
"  over  singing,  the  same  idea  may  recur  to  our  remembrance,  or 
"be  raised  again  by  us  at  pleasure.  In  like  manner,  our  other 
"  senses  convey  ideas  of  their  respective  kinds,  which  recur 
"again  to  our  view  long  after  the  objects  first  exciting  them  have 
"  been  removed. 

"  These  ideas  having  entered  the  mind,  intermingle,  unite,  sepa- 
<'  rate,  throw  themselves  into  various  combinations  and  postures, 
"  and  thereby  generate  new  ideas  of  reflection,  strictly  so  called, 
"  such  as  those  of  comparing,  dividing,  distinguishing,  of  abstrac- 
"  tion,  relation,  with  many  others:  all  which  remain  with  us  as 
"  stock  for  our  further  use  on  future  occasions." 

— "  What  those  substances  are  whereof  our  ideas  are  the 
"modifications,  whether  fiarts  of  the  mind  as  the  members  are  of 
"  our  body,  or  contained  in  it  like  wafers  in  a  box,  or  enveloped  by 
"  it  like  fish  in  water;  whether  of  a  sfiiritual,  corporeal,  or  middle 
"  nature  between  both,  I  need  not  now  ascertain.  All  I  mean  at 
*'  present  to  lay  down  is  this:  That,  in  every  exercise  of  the  un- 
"  derstanding,  that  which  discerns  is  numerically  and  substantially 
"distinct  from  that  which  is  discerned;  and  that  an  act  of  the 
"  understanding  is  not  so  much  our  own  proper  act,  as  the  act 
"of  something  else  operating  upon  us." — Vol.  I.  p.  J 5,  et  seq. 
(edit,  of  1768.) 

On  this  and  some  other  points  touched  upon  in  these  Essays, 

3T 


514  NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS 

I  am  sorry  that  I  have  the  misfortune  to  differ  from  an  author, 
for  wliose  talents,  learning',  and  taste,  1  entertain  a  high  respect. 
I  have  purposely  avoided  any  reference  to  his  book  through  the 
whole  of  this  volume,  as  his  reasonings  did  not  appear  to  myself 
to  invalidate  the  conclusions  which  Lwas  chiefly  anxious  to  es- 
tablish. See  Academical  Questions  by  the  Right  Honourable 
Sir  William  Drummond  (London,  1805):  particularly  Chapter 
X.>  which  contains  his  defence  of  the  Ideal  Theory.  It  is  direct- 
ed chiefly  against  some  arguments  and  expressions  of  Dr.  Reid; 
and  must  be  acknowledged,  even  by  those  who  dissent  the  most 
widely  from  its  doctrines,  to  be  written  with  equal  ability  and 
candour. 


NOTE  (C),  P.  93. 

"Those  things  which  are  inferior  and  secondary,  are  by  no 
"  means  the  principles  or  causes  of  the  more  excellent;  and, 
"  though  we  admit  the  common  interpretations,  and  allow  sense 
"  to  he  a  principle  of  science,  we  must,  however,  call  it  a  princi- 
"  pie,  not  as  if  it  was  the  efficient  cause  but  as  it  rouses  our  soul 
"  to  the  recollection  of  general  ideas.  According  to  the  same 
"  Avay  of  thinking,  is  it  said  in  the  Timxus,  that  through  the 
"  sight  and  hearing  we  acquire  to  ourselves  philosophy,  because 
"  we  pass  from  objects  of  sense  to  Reminiscence  or  Recollec- 

"  tion." "  For,  in  as  much  as  the  soul,  by  containing  the 

"  principles  of  all  beings,  is  a  sort  of  omniform  representation  or 
"  exemplar:  when  it  is  roused  by  objects  of  sense,  it  recollects 
"  those  principles,  which  it  contains  within,  and  brings  them 
«  forth." 

The  foregoing  passages  (which  I  give  in  the  version  of  Mr. 
Harris)  are  taken  from  a  manuscript  commentary  of  the  Platonic 
Olympiodorus  upon  the  Phaedo  of  Plato.  See  Harris's  Works, 
Vol.  I.  p.  426. 


NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS.  515 

The  following  lines  are  from  Boethius,  who,  after  having  enu- 
merated many  acts  of  the  Mind  or  Intellect,  wholly  distinct 
ft'om  Sensation,  and  independent  of  it,  thus  concludes: 

"  Hjec  est  efficiens  magis 
"  Longe  caussa  potentior, 
"  Quam  quse  materia  modo 
"  Impressas  patitur  notas. 
•'  Praecedit  tamen  excitans, 
"  Ac  vires  animi  movens, 
"  Vivo  in  corpore  passio. 
"  Cum  vel  lux  oculos  ferit, 
"  Vel  vox  auribus  instrepit; 
"  Turn  MENTIS  VIGOR  cxcitus, 

"QUAS  INTUS  SPECIES  TENET, 

"  Ad  motus  simileis  vocans, 
"  Notis  applicat  exteris, 

"  lNTRORSUM(iUE  RECONDITIS 

"FoRMis  miscet  imagines. 

De  Consol.  Phil.  1.  v. 

To  these  quotations  I  shall  only  add  a  short  extract  from  Dr. 
Price. 

"According  to  Cudworth,  abstract  ideas  are  implied  in  the 
"  cognoscitive  fiower  of  the  mind;  ivhich  contairm  in  itself  virtually 
"  {as  the  future  plant  or  tree  is  contained  in  the  seed)  general  no- 
"  tions  or  exemplars  of  all  things,  ivhich  are  exerted  by  it,  or  un- 
^^fold  and  discover  themselves  as  occasions  invite,  and  proper  cir- 
"  cumstances  occur.  This  no  doubt,  many  will  very  freely  con- 
"  demn,  as  whimsical  and  extravagant.  I  have,  I  own,  a  different 
"  opinion  of  it;  but  yet  I  should  not  care  to  be  obliged  to  defend 
"  it."  Price's  Review,  &c.  (London  1769)  p.  39. 


516  NOTES  AND  ILLVSTRATIONS. 


NOTE  (D),  p.  101. 

The  word  sentiment,  agreeably  to  the  use  made  oi  it  by  our 
best  English  writers,  expresses,  in  my  opinion,  very  happily, 
those  complex  determinations  of  the  mind,  which  result  from 
the  cooperation  of  our  rational  powers  and  of  our  moral  feelings. 
We  do  not  speak  of  a  man's  sentiments  concerning  a  mechanical 
contrivance,  or  a  physical  hypothesis,  or  concerning  any  specu- 
lative question  whatever,  by  which  the  feelings  are  not  liable  to 
be  roused,  or  the  heart  affected. 

This  account  of  the  meaning  of  the  word  sentiment  corres- 
ponds, I  think,  exactly  with  the  use  made  of  it  by  Mr.  Smith,  in 
the  title  of  his  Theory.  It  agrees  also  nearly  with  the  following 
explanation  of  its  import,  in  Campbell's  Philosophy  ot  Rhetoric: 
"  What  is  addressed  solely  to  the  moral  powers  of  the  mind,  is 
"  not  so  properly  denominated  the  pathetic,  as  the  sentimental. 
"The  term,  I  own,  is  rather  modern,  but  is  nevertheless  conveni- 
"  ent,  as  it  fills  a  vacant  room,  and  does  not,  like  most  of  our  new- 
"  fangled  words,  justle  out  older  and  worthier  occupants,  to  the 
"no  small  detriment  of  the  language.  It  occupies,  so  to  speak, 
"the  middle  place  between  the  pathetic  and  that  which  is  ad- 
"  dressed  to  the  imagination,  and  partakes  of  both,  adding  to  the 
"  warmth  of  the  former,  the  grace  and  attractions  of  the  latter." 

Would  not  Campbell  have  stated  this  philological  fact  still 
more  accurately,  if  he  had  substituted  the  word  understanding 
instead  oi  imagination,  in  the  last  sentence? — making  such  altera- 
tions on  the  subsequent  clause,  as  this  change  would  have  rend- 
ered necessary .-^In  proposing  the  following,  I  wish  only  to 
convey  my  idea  more  clearly: — "  and  partakes  of  both,  adding 
"  to  the  interest  of  the  former,  the  sober  and  deliberate  convic- 
"  tion  of  the  latter." 


NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS.  517 

Dr.  Beattie  has  said,  "  that  the  true  and  the  old  English  sense 
"  of  the  word  sentimtnt  is  a  formed  opinion,  notion,  or  princi- 
"  pie;"*  and  he  is  certainly  supported  in  this  remark,  by  the  ex-' 
planation  of  that  word  in  Johnson's  Dictionary.  It  is  remarkable 
however, that  the  very  first  authority  quoted  by  Johnson  is  strong- 
ly in  favour  of  what  I  have  stated  concerning  the  shade  of  differ- 
ence between  the  words  sentiment  and  opinion,  "  The  consid- 
"  eration  of  the  reason,  why  they  are  annexed  to  so  many  other 
"  ideas,  serving  to  give  us  due  sentiments  of  the  wisdom  and  good- 
"  ncss  of  the  sovereign  Disposer  of  all  things,  may  not  be  imsuit- 
"  able  to  the  main  end  of  these  inquiries." — (Locke.) 

One  thing  at  least  must  be  granted,  that,  if  this  term  be  con- 
sidered as  exactly  synonymous  with  ofiinion  or  princijile^  it  is 
altogether  superfluous  in  our  language;  whereas,  in  the  restrict- 
ed sense  in  which  I  am  inclined  to  employ  it,  it  forms  a  real  and 
most  convenient  accession  to  our  philosophical  vocabulary. 

If  these  remarks  be  just.  Dr.  Reid  has  made  use  of  the  word 
somewhat  improperly  (at  least  according  to  present  usage),  when 
he  speaks  in  his  Essays  on  the  Intellectual  Powers,  of  the  se.nti- 
mentsoi  Mr.  Locke  concerning  perception;  and  of  the  sentiments 
of  Arnauld,  of  Berkeley,  and  of  Hume,  concerning  ideas. — He 
seems,  himself,  to  have  been  sensible  of  this;  for  in  his  Essays 
on  the  Active  Powers,  published  three  years  after  the  former, 
he  observes,  that  "  seritiment  was  wont  to  signify  opinion  or  judg- 
"  ment  of  any  kind;  but  of  late,  is  appropriated  to  signify  an 
"  opinion  or  judgment,  that  strikes,  and  produces  some  agreea- 
"  ble  or  uneasy  emotion."    (P.  479.  4to  edit.) 

Mr.  Hume,  on  the  other  hand,  sometimes  employs  (after  the 
example  of  the  French  metaphysicians)  sentiment  as  synonymous 
with  feeling;  an  use  of  the  word  quite  unprecedented  in  our 
tongue. 

In  ascertaining  the  propriety  of  our  vernacular  expressions, 
it  is  a  rule  with  me,  never  to  appeal  from  the  practice  of  our 
own  standard  authors  to  etymological  considerations,  or  to  the 

*  Essay  on  Truth,  Part  ii.  c.  i.  sect.  1,   - 


518  NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

use  which  is  made,  in  other  languages,  either  ancient  or  modern, 
of  the  corresponding  derivatives  from  the  same  rooot.  In  the 
present  instance,  accordingly,  I  pay  no  regard  to  the  definitions 
given  of  the  word  sentiment,  in  French  dictionaries;  although  I 
readily  acknowledge,  that  it  was  from  that  country  we  originally 
borrowed  it:  And  I  am  much  fortified  in  my  doubts  with  respect 
to  the  competency  of  foreign  tribunals  to  decide  any  such  ques- 
tions, by  the  variety  of  senses  attached  to  this  very  word,  in  the 
different  languages  of  modern  Europe.  On  this  point  1  willingly 
borrow  a  few  remarks  from  a  very  ingenious  and  judicious  critic. 

"  Le  vaotsentiinenty  derive  du  primitif  Latin  sentirc,  a  passe 
"  dans  les  langues  modernes,  mais  avec  des  nuances  d'acception 
"  particulieres  a  chacune  d'elles.  En  Italien,  sentimento  exprime 
"  deux  idees  differentes;  1.  I'opinion  qu'on  a  sur  un  objet,  ou  sur 
"  une  question;  2.  la  faculte  de  sentir.  En  Anglois,  sentiment 
"  n'a  que  le  premier  de  ces  deux  sens.  En  Espagnol,  sentimienta 
"  signifie  sonffrancCf  acception  que  le  mot  primitif  a  quelquefois 
"  en  Latin. 

"  En  Fran9ois,  sentiment  a  les  deux  acceptions  de  I'ltalien,  mais 
"  avec  cette  difference,  que  dans  la  derniere  il  a  beaucoup  d'ex- 
"  tension.  Non  seulement  il  designe  generalement  en  Francois 
"  toutes  les  affections  de  I'ame,  mais  il  exprime  plus  pai'ticuliere- 
"  ment  la  passion  de  I'amour.  En  voici  un  example;  son  senti- 
"  MENT  est  si  prof  and  que  rien  au  monde  ne  pent  la  distraire  des 
"  ohjets  qui  servent  a  le  nourrir.  Si  I'on  traduit  cette  phrase  dans 
"  toute  autre  langue,  en  conservant  le  mot  sentiment,  on  fera  un 
"  Gallicismc.  On  en  fera  egalement  un,  en  employant  ce  mot 
"  dans  la  traduction  des  phrases  suivantes:  c'est  un  hommea  sen- 
"  timent;  voila  du  sentiment;  il  y  a  du  sentiment  dans  cette 
^^ piece;  il  est  tout  dme,  tout  sentiment; — parce  qu'il  y  est  pris 
"  dans  une  acception  vague,  pour  tout  ce  qui  tient  a  la  faculte 
"  de  sentir.  Aussi  Sterne  en  a-t-il  fait  un  en  donnant  a  son 
"  voyage  le  titre  de  sentimental;  mot  que  les  Fran9ois  n'ont  pas 
'-'■  manque  de  reclamer,  et  de  faire  passer  dans  leur  langue,  parce 


NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS.  519 

'*  qu'il  est  parfaitement  analogue  a  Tacception  qu'ils  ont  donnee 
"  au  mot  sendmmi."— (Dissertation  sur  les  Gallicismes,  par  M. 
Suard.) 

It  does  not  .ppear  to  me  that  Sterne  can  be  justly  charged 
with  a  Gallicism,  in  the  title  which  he  has  given  to  his  book;  the 
adjective  sentimental,  although  little  used  before  his  time,  being 
strictly  confo"mable  in  its  meaning  to  the  true  English  import  of 
the  substantive  on  which  it  is  formed.  On  the  contrary,  I  think, 
that  in  adopting  the  adjective  sentimental,  as  well  as  in  the  phrase 
homme  a  sentiment,  the  French  have  imitated  the  English  idiom. 
In  applying,  indeed,  the  word  sentiment  to  the  passion  of  lo-ve, 
they  must  be  allowed  to  have  led  the  way:  Nor  do  I  know  that 
their  example  has  been  yet  followed  by  any  good  writer  in  this 
country. — M.  Suard  was  probably  misled,  in  this  criticism  on 
Sterne,  by  Johnson's  Dictionary. 

They  who  are  aware  of  the  frequent  use  of  this  word,  which 
has  been  lately  made  by  our  moral  writers,  will  not  blame  me  for 
the  length  of  this  note;  more  especially,  when  they  consider  what 
a  source  of  misapprehension  it  has  been  between  English  and 
French  philosophers.  How  oddly  does  the  following  sentence 
sound  in  our  ears!  "  Les  nouveaux  philosophes  veulent  que  la 
"  couleur  soit  un  sentiment  de  I'ame." 


NOTE  (E),  P.  107. 

The  principal  steps  of  Berkeley's  reasoning,  in  support  of  his 
scheme  of  idealisin,  are  expressed  in  the  following  propositions, 
which  are  stated  nearly  in  his  own  words. 

"  We  are  percipient  of  nothing  but  our  own  perceptions  and 
"  ideas." — "  It  is  evident  to  any  one  who  takes  a  survey  of  the 
«  objects  of  human  knowledge,  that  they  are  either  ideas  actually 
"imprinted  on  the  senses;  or  else  such  as  are  perceived  by  at- 
'<  tending  to  the  passions  and  operations  of  the  mind;  or  lastly, 


520  XOTKS  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

"  ideas  formed  by  help  of  memory  and  imagination,  cither  com- 
<*  pounding,  dividing;,  or  barely  representing  those  originally  per- 

«'  ceived  in  the  foresaid  ways." "  Light  and  colours,  heat 

"  and  cold,  extension  and  figure;  in  a  word,  the  things  we  see 
"and  feel,  what  are  they  bvit  so  many  sensations,  notions,  ideas, 
"  or  impressions  on  the  sense;  and  is  it  possible  to  separate,  even 
"in  thought,  any  of  these  from  perception?   For  my  own  part,  I 

"  might  as  easily  divide  a  thing  from  itself As  for  our  senses, 

"  by  them  we  have  the  knowledge  only  of  our  sensations,  ideas, 
"  or  those  things  that  are  immediately  perceived  by  sense,  call 
"them  what  you  will:  But  they  do  not  inform  us,  that  things 
"  exist  without  a  mind,  or  unperceived — like  to  those  which  are 

"  perceived. As  there  can  be  no  notion  or  thought  but 

"  in  a  thinking  being,  so  there  can  be  no  sensation,  but  in  a  sen- 
"  tient  being;  it  is  the  act  or  feeling  of  a  sentient  being;  its 
"  very  essence  consists  in  being  felt.  Nothing  can  resemble  a 
"  sensation,  but  a  similar  sensation  in  the  same,  or  in  some  other 
"mind.  To  think  that  any  quality  in  a  thing  inanimate  can  re- 
"  semble  a  sensation  is  absurd,  and  a  contradiction  in  terms." 

This  argument  of  Berkeley  is  very  clearly  and  concisely  put 
by  Reid.  "  If  we  have  any  knowledge  of  a  material  world,  it  must 
"  be  by  the  senses:  but  by  the  senses  ive  have  no  knowledge,  but  of 
"  our  sensations  only;  and  our  sensations,  which  are  attributes  of 
"  Mind,  can  have  no  resemblance  to  any  qualities  of  a  thing  that 
"  is  inanimate." 

It  is  observed  by  Dr.  Reid,  that  the  only  proposition  in  this 
demonstration,  which  admits  of  doubt,  is,  that  by  our  senses  we 
have  the  knowledge  of  our  sensations  only,  and  of  nothing  else. 
Grant  this,  and  the  conclusion  is  irresistible. — "For  my  own 
"  part"  (he  adds)  "  I  once  believed  this  doctrine  of  ideas  so  firm- 
"  ly,  as  to  embrace  the  whole  of  Berkeley's  system  in  conse- 
"  qucncc  of  it;  till  finding  some  consequences  to  follow  from  it, 
"  which  gave  me  more  uneasiness  than  the  want  of  a  material 
"  world,  it  came  into  my  mind,  more  than  forty  years  ago,  to  put 


NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS.  521 

"  the  question,  what  evidence  have  I  for  this  doctrine,  that  all 
"  the  objects  of  my  knowledge  are  ideas  in  my  own  mind?  From 
*'  that  time  to  the  present,  I  have  been  candidly  and  impartially, 
"  as  I  think,  seeking  for  the  evidence  of  this  principle,  but  can 
"  find  none,  excepting  the  authority  of  philosophers." 

We  are  told,  in  the  life  of  Dr.  Berkeley,  that,  after  the  publi- 
cation of  his  book,  he  had  an  interview  with  Dr.  Clarke;  in  the 
course  of  which,  Clarke  discovered  a  manifest  unwillingness  to 
enter  into  the  discussion  about  the  existence  of  matter,  and  was 
accused  by  Berkeley  of  a  want  of  candour. — The  story  has  every 
appearance  of  truth;  for  as  Clarke,  in  common  with  his  antago- 
nist, regarded  the  ideal  theory  as  incontrovertible,  it  was  perfectly 
impossible  for  him,  with  all  his  acuteness,  to  detect  the  flaw  to 
which  Berkeley's  paradox  owed  its  plausibility. 


NOTE  (F),  P.  107. 

In  order  to  demonstrate  the  repugnance  of  the  ideal  theory  to 
fact^  Dr.  Reid  observes,  that  in  its  fundamental  assumption,  it 
confounds  our  sensations  and  fiercefitions  together;*  overlooking 
altogether  the  sensations  by  which  the  primary  qualities  of  matter 

*  Sensation  properly  expresses  that  change  in  the  state  of  the  mind,  which 
is  produced  by  an  impression  upon  an  organ  of  sense;  (of  which  change 
we  can  conceive  the  mind  to  be  conscious,  without  any  knowledge  of  ex- 
ternal objects):  Perception  on  the  other  hand,  expresses  the  inoKuledge  or 
the  intimations  we  obtain,  by  means  of  our  sensations,  concerning  the 
quaUties  of  matter;  and,  consequently,  involves,  in  every  instance,  the  no- 
tion of  externality  or  outness,  which  it  is  necessary  to  exclude,  as  much  as 
possible,  from  tlie  thoughts,  in  order  to  seize  the  precise  import  of  the 
word  sensation.  See  Outlines  of  Moral  Philosophy,  §  14.  (Edinburgh,  1808.) 

For  a  fuller  illustration  of  this  distinction,  I  must  refer  to  Dr.  Reid.  A 
clear  conception  of  it  (as  he  has  himself  remarked)  is  the  key  to  all  that 
he  has  written  in  opposition  to  the  Berkeleian  system.  Priestley,  through 
the  whole  of  his  strict«r<js  on  Reid,  studiously  employs  the  two  words  jrs 
synonymous  terms 

5  U 


522  XOTKS  AND  ILLUSTllATIONS'. 

are  made  known  to  us.  Berkeley  says,  that  by  the  senses  ivc  have  no 
knowledge  but  of  our  sensations  only;  and  Locke,  that  the  firimary 
(jxialities  of  body  are  resemblances  of  our  sensations^  though  the 
secondary  are  not.  Now,  upon  this  point  we  may  venture  to  ap- 
peal to  every  man*s  consciousness.  Can  any  person  doubt,  that 
he  has  clear  notions  of  extension  and  oi  figure,  which  form  the 
subjects  of  the  proudest  and  most  beautiful  system  of  demonstra- 
ted truths,  yet  brought  to  light  by  human  reason?  Indeed,  what 
notions  can  be  mentioned,  more  definite  and  satisfactory  than 
Avhat  we  possess,  of  these  two  qualities?  And  what  resemblance 
can  either  bear  to  the  changes  which  take  place  in  the  state  of  a 
sentient  being?  That  we  have  notions  of  external  qualities  whicli 
have  no  resemblance  to  our  sensations,  or  to  any  thing  of  which 
the  mind  is  conscious.,  is  therefore  a  fact  of  which  every  man's 
experience  affords  the  completest  evidence;  and  to  which  it  is 
not  possible  to  oppose  a  single  objection,  but  its  incompatibility 
with  the  common  philosophical  theories  concerning  the  origin 
of  our  knowledge. 

The  idea  of  Extension  (without  having  recourse  to  any  other), 
furnishes,  of  itself,  an  ex/iei-imentujn  crucis  for  the  determination 
of  this  question.  The  argument  which  it  affords  against  the  truth 
of  the  ideal  theory  is  very  forcibly  stated  by  Ur.  Reid,  in  a  pas- 
sage, the  greater  part  of  which  I  intended  to  have  transcribed 
here,  in  order  to  excite  the  curiosity  of  my  readers  with  respect 
to  the  work  in  which  it  is  detailed  at  length.  As  I  am  prevented, 
however,  from  doing  so  by  want  of  room,  I  must  request  such 
of  them  as  have  any  relish  for  these  speculations,  to  study  with 
care  the  fifth  and  sixth  sections  of  the  fifth  chapter  of  his  Inquiry 
into  the  HuiTian  Mind;  also  the  paragraph  in  the  seventh  section 
of  the  same  chapter,  beginning  with  the  words,  "  This,  I  would 
"  therefore  humbly  propose,  as  an  exfierimentum  crucis  "  Sec. 
They  are  not  to  be  comprehended  fully  vv'ithout  a  considerable 
effort  of  patient  reflection;  but  they  are  within  the  reach  of  any 
person  of  plain  understanding,  who  will  submit  to  this  troublcr: 


NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS,  523 

and  they  lead  to  very  important  consequences  in  the  philosophy 
of  the  human  mind. 

After  the  long  interval  which  has  clasped  since  the  first  publi- 
cation of  this  book,  I  should  despair  of  reviving-  any  degree  of 
attention  to  the  subject,  if  I  did  not  recollect  the  opposition  and 
the  neglect  which  all  those  truths  have  had,  in  the  first  instance, 
to  encounter,  which  are  now  regarded  as  the  great  pillars  of 
modern  philosophy. — I  was  anxious,  at  the  same  time,  to  bring 
into  immediate  contrast  the  statement  which  was  given  by  this 
author,  fifty  years  ago,  of  the  incompatibility  of  our  ideas  of  cx- 
tetisio7i,^gui-Cy  and  motion,  with  the  received  systems  concerning 
t^e  sourcesof  our  knowledge;  and  the  indistinct  pointings  towards 
the  same  conclusion,  which  have  since  appeared  in  the  writings 
of  Kant  and  others.  The  noise  which  this  doctrine  has  made,  in 
consequence  of  the  mysterious  veil  under  which  they  have  dis- 
guised it,  when  compared  with  the  public  inattention  to  the  sim- 
ple and  luminous  reasonings  of  Reid,  affords  one  of  the  most 
remarkable  instances  I  know,  of  that  weak  admiration,  which 
the  half-learned  are  always  ready  to  bestow  on  whatever  they  find 
themselves  unable  to  comprehend.  But  on  these  and  some  col- 
lateral topics,  I  shall  have  an  opportunity  of  explaining  myself 
more  fully  in  a  subsequent  note. 


To  those  who  take  an  interest  in  tracing  the  progress  of  phi- 
losophical speculation,  it  may  not  be  unacceptable  to  know,  that 
although  Reid  was  indisputably  the  first  who  saw  clearly  the  im- 
portant consequences  involved  in  the  downfal  of  the  ideal  theory, 
yet  various  hints  towards  its  refutation,  may  be  collected  from 
earlier  writers.  So  far  from  considering  this  anticipation  as 
having  any  tendency  to  lower  his  merits,  I  wish  to  point  it  out 
to  my  readers,  as  a  proof  of  the  sagacity  with  which  he  perceived 


524  NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

the  various  and  extensive  applications  to  be  made  of  a  conclusion, 
which,  in  the  hands  of  his  predecessors,  was  altogether  sterile  and 
useless.  My  own  conviction,  at  the  same  time,  is,  that  the  pas- 
sages I  am  now  to  quote,  were  either  unknown  to  Dr.  Reid,  or 
had  altogether  escaped  his  recollection,  when  he  wrote  his  In- 
quiry. They  exhibit,  in  fact,  nothing  more  than  momentary 
glimpses  of  the  truth,  afforded  by  some  casual  light  which  im- 
mediately disappeared,  leaving  the  traveller  to  wander  in  the  same 
darkness  as  before. 

The  following  sentence  in  Dr.  Hutcheson's  Treatise  on  the 
Passions,  considering  the  period  at  which  the  author  wrote,  vcr 
fleets  the  highest  honour  on  his  metaphysical  acuteness:  "  Ejj- 
*<  tension,  figure,  motion,  and  rest,  seem  to  be  more  properly  ideas 
'^  accompanying  the  sensations  of  sight  and  touch,  than  the  sensa- 
<'  tions  of  either  of  those  senses." — It  does  not  appear  from  any 
reference  which  he  afterwards  makes  to  this  distinction,  that  he 
was  at  all  aware  of  its  value. 

The  learned  and  judicious  Crousaz,  who  wrote  a  little  prior  to 
Hutcheson,  expresses  himself  nearly  to  the  same  purpose;  and 
even  dwells  on  the  distinction  at  some  length.  In  the  following 
passage,  I  have  taken  no  other  liberty  with  the  original,  but  that 
of  suppressing  some  superfluous  words  and  clauses,  with  which 
the  author  has  loaded  his  statement  and  obscured  his  meaning. 
The  clauses,  however,  which  I  omit,  and  still  more  the  preceding 
Context,  will  satisfy  any  person  who  may  take  the  trouble  to  exa- 
mine them,  that  although  he  seems  to  have  had  Reid's  fundamen- 
tal principle  fairly  within  his  reach,  he  saw  it  too  indistinctly  to 
be  able  to  trace  its  consequences,  or  even  to  convey  its  import 
very  clearly  to  the  minds  of  others. 

"  When  we  would  represent  to  ourselves  something  ivithout  us, 
<'and  which  resembles  a  sensation,  it  is  evident  that  we  pursue  a 
"mere  chimera.  A  sensation  can  represent  nothing  but  a  sensa- 
<<  tion:  And  sensation,  being  a  species  of  thought,  can  represent 
«<  nothing  which  belongs  to  a  subject  incapable  of  thinking.  It  is 


NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS.  525 

"^  not  so  with  the  objects  of  our  perceptions.  When  I  think  of  a 
"  tree,  or  of  a  triangle,  I  know  the  objects,  to  which  I  give  these 
"  names,  to  be  different  from  my  Jhqughts,  and  to  have  no  resem- 
"  blance  to  them. —  The  fact  is  wonderful.)  but  it  is  not  the  less  in- 
"  contestable." 

In  Baxter's  Treatise  on  the  Immateriality  of  the  Soul,  the  same 
observation  is  not  only  repeated,  but  is  employed  expressly  for  the 
refutation  of  the  Berkeleian  system.  It  is,  however,  worthy  of 
remark,  that  this  ingenious  writer  has  pushed  his  conclusion  far- 
ther than  he  was  warranted  to  do  by  his  premises;  and  indeed 
farther  than  his  own  argument  required, 

"  If  our  ideas  have  no  parts,  and  yet  if  we  perceive  parts,  it  is 
"  plain  wc  fierceive  something  more  than  our  own  perceptions.  But 
"  both  these  are  certain:  we  are  conscious  that  we  perceive  parts, 
<'  when  we  look  upon  a  house,  a  tree,  a  river,  the  dial-plate  of  a 
"  clock  or  watch.  This  is  a  short  and  easy  way  of  being  certain 
"  that  something  exists  without  the  mind." — (V.  II.  p.  313.} 

It  is  evident,  that  the  fact  here  stated,  furnishes  no  positive  proof 
of  the  existence  of  external  objects.  It  only  destroys  the  force  of 
Berkeley's  reasonings  against  the  possibility  of  their  existence,  by 
its  obvious  incompatibility  with  the  fundamental  principle  on 
which  all  these  reasonings  proceed. — The  inference,  therefore, 
which  Baxter  ought  to  have  drawn  was  this;  that  by  our  sensa- 
tions we  do  receive  notions  of  qualities  which  bear  no  resemblance 
to  these  sensations;  and  consequently,  that  Berkeley's  reasonings 
are  good  for  nothing,  being  founded  on  a  false  hypothesis.  This 
is  precisely  Reid's  argument;  and  it  is  somewhat  curious  that 
Baxter,  after  having  got  possession  of  the  premises,  was  not  aware 
of  the  important  consequences  to  which  they  lead. 

Of  all  the  writers,  however,  who  touched  upon  this  subject,  prior 
to  the  publication  of  Reid's  Inquiry,  none  seems  to  have  had  a 
clearer" perception  of  the  truth,  or  to  have  expressed  it  with  greater 
precision,  than  D'Alembert.  "  It  is  doubtless"  (he  observes  in  one 
passage)  "  by  the  sense  of  touch  we  are  enabled  to  distinguish 
"  our  own  bodies  from  surrounding  objects;  but  how  does  it  con- 


526  NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIOXi). 

"  vey  to  us  the  notion  of  that  coritimdty  of  parts  in  M'hich  consists 
"properly  the  notion  of  extension^.  Here  is  a  problem  on  which, 
"  it  appears  to  nie,  that  philosophy  is  able  to  throw  a  vei'y  imper- 

"  feet  litjht. 111  a  word,  tlie  sensation  by  means  of  which  we 

"  arrive  at  the  knowledge  of  extension  is,  in  its  nature,  as  incom- 
"  prehensiblc  as  extension  itself." — (Elemens  de  la  Philosophic, 
Article  INIetaphysique.)  On  a  different  occasion,  the  same  writer 
has  remarked,  that,  "  as  no  relation  whatever  can  be  discovered 
"  between  a  sensation  in  the  mind,  and  the  object  by  which  it  is 
"occasioned,  or  at  least  to  which  we  refer  it,  there  does  not  seem 
"  to  be  a  possibility  of  tracing,  by  dint  of  reasoning,  any  practical 
"  passage  from  the  one  to  the  other."  And  hence  he  is  led  to  as- 
cribe our  belief  of  the  existence  of  things  external  to  "  a  species 
"  of  instinct;" — "  a  principle"  (he  adds)  "  more  sure  in  its  ope- 
"  ration  than  reason  itself." 

In  direct  opposition  to  the  fact  which  D'Alembert  has  thus  not 
only  admitted,  but  pointed  out  to  his  readers  as  involving  a  mys- 
tery not  to  be  explained,  it  is  astonishing  to  find  him  expressing, 
again  and  again,  in  different  parts  of  his  works,  his  complete  ac- 
quiescence in  Locke's  doctrine,  that  all  our  ideas  are  derived  from 
our  sensatioiis;  and  that  it  is  impossible  for  us  to  think  of  any  thing 
which  has  no  resemblance  to  something  previously  known  to  us 
by  our  own  consciousness.  The  remarks,  accordingly,  just  quoted 
from  him,  are  nowhere  turned  to  any  account  in  his  subsequent 
reasonings. 

All  these  passages  reflect  light  on  Reid's  philosophy,  and  afford 
evidence,  that  the  difficulty  on  which  he  has  laid  so  great  stress, 
Avith  respect  to  the  transition  made  by  the  mind  from  its  sensa- 
tions to  a  knowledge  of  the  primary  qualities  of  matter,  is  by  no 
means  (as  Priestley  and  some  others  have  asserted)  the  offspring 
of  his  own  imagination.  They  prove,  at  the  same  time,  that  none 
of  the  authors  from  whom  I  have  borrowed  them,  with  the  single 
exception  of  Baxter,  have  availed  themselves  of  this  difficulty  to 
destroy  the  foundations  of  Berkeley's  scheme  of  Idealism;  and 


NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS,  52? 

that  Baxter  himself  was  as  unapprised  as  the  others,  of  the  exten- 
sive applications  of  which  it  is  susceptible  to  various  other  ques- 
tions connected  with  the  philosophy  of  the  human  mind.  The 
celebrated  German  professor,  Emanuel  Kant,  seems  at  last  to 
have  got  a  glimpse  of  this,  notwithstanding  the  scholastic  fog 
through  which  he  delights  to  view  every  object  to  which  he  turns 
his  attention.  As  his  writings,  however,  were  of  a  much  later  date 
than  those  of  Dr.  Reid,  they  do  not  properly  fall  under  our  con- 
sideration in  this  note:  And,  at  any  rate,  I  must  not  now  add  to 
its  length,  by  entering  upon  a  topic  of  such  extent  and  difficulty. 


NOTE  (Cx),  P.  'lor. 

The  following  strictures  on  Reid's  reasonings  against  the  ideal 
theory  occur  in  a  work  published  by  Dr.  Priestley  in  1774. 

"  Before  our  author  had  rested  so  much  upon  this  argument, 
"  it  behoved  him,  I  think,  to  have  examined  the  strength  of  it  a 
"  little  more  carefully  than  he  seems  to  have  done:  for  he  appears 
"  to  me  to  have  suffered  himself  to  be  misled  in  the  very  founda- 
•'  tion  of  it,  merely  by  philosophers  happening  to  call  ideas  the 
^^  images  of  external  things;  as  if  this  was  7iot  known  to  be  ajigu- 
"  rative  exfiression^  denoting,  not  that  the  actual  shapes  of  things 
"  were  delineated  in  the  brain,  or  upon  the  mind,  but  only  that 
"  impressions  of  some  kind  or  other  were  conveyed  to  the  mind 
"  by  means  of  the  organs  of  sense  and  their  corresponding  nerves, 
"  and  that  between  these  impressions  and  the  sensations  existing 
"  in  the  mind,  there  is  a  real  and  necessary,  though  at  present  an 
"  unknown  connection." 

To  those  who  have  perused  the  metaphysical  writings  of  Berke- 
ley and  of  Hume,  the  foregoing  passage  cannot  fail  to  appear 
much  too  ludicrous  to  deserve  a  serious  answer.  Do  not  all  the 
reasonings  which  have  been  deduced  from  Locke's  philosophy 
against  the  independent  existence  of  the  material  world  hinge  on 


528  NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

that  very  principle  which  Priestley  affects  to  consider  as  merely 
an  accidental  mode  of  speaking,  never  meant  to  be  understood 
literally?  Where  did  he  learn  that  the  philosophers  who  have 
"  happened  to  call  ideas  the  images  oi  external  things,"  employed 
this  term  "  as  a  figurative  expression,  denoting,  not  that  the  ac- 
*'  tual  shapes  of  things  were  delineated  in  the  brain  or  upon  the 
"  mind,  but  only,  that  impressions  of  some  kind  or  other  were 
"  conveyed  to  the  mind  by  means  of  the  organs  of  sense  and  their 
"corresponding  nerves?"  Has  not  Mr.  Locke  expressly  told  us, 
that  "  the  ideas  of  primary  qualities  of  bodies  are  resemblances  of 
"  them,  and  that  iht'w patterns  do  really  exist  in  the  bodies  them- 
"  selves;  but  that  the  ideas  produced  in  us  by  secondary  qualities 
''  have  no  resemblance  of  them  at  all?"*  And  did  not  Mr.  Hume 
understand  this  doctrine  of  Locke  in  the  most  strict  and  literal 
meaning  of  the  words,  when  he  stated,  as  one  of  its  necessary 
consequences,  '<  That  the  mind  either  is  no  substance,  or  that  it 
"is  an  extended  and  divisible  substance;  because  xXxt ideas  of  ex- 
"  tension  cannot  be  in  a  subject  which  is  indivisible  and  unex- 
"  tended."t 

*  Vol.  I.  p.  99,  13th  edit,  of  his  Essays. 

■j-  "The  most  vulgar  philosophy  informs  us,  that  no  external  object  can 
"  make  itself  known  to  the  mind  immediately,  and  without  the  interposi- 
"tion  of  an  image  or  perception.  That  table,  which  just  now  appears  to 
"me,  is  only  a  perception,  and  all  its  qualities  are  qualities  of  a  percep- 
"tion.  Now,  tlie  most  obvious  of  all  its  qualities  is  extension.  The  percep- 
"tion  consists  of  parts.  These  parts  are  so  situated,  as  to  afibrd  us  the 
"  notion  of  distance  and  contiguity;  of  length,  breadth,  and  thickness.  The 
"termination  of  these  three  dimensions  is  what  we  call  figure.  This  figure 
"  is  moveable,  separable,  and  divisible.  Mobility  and  sepai-ability  are 
"  the  distinguishing  properties  of  extended  objects.  And  to  cut  short  all 
"disputes,  the  very  idea  of  extension  is  co/j^Vc/ from  nothing  but  an  impres- 
"  sion,  and  consequently  must  perfectly  agree  to  it.  To  say  the  idea  of  ex- 
"  tension  agrees  to  any  thing,  is  to  say  it  is  extended." 

"The  free-tltinker  may  now  triumph  in  his  turn;  and  having  found  there 
''  are  impressions  and  ideas  really  extended,  m:iy  ask  his  antagonists,  how 
'•  they  can  incorporate  a  simple  and  indivisible  subject  with  an  extended 
'**" perception?" — (Treatise  of  iJuman  Nature,  Vo].  I.  pp.  416,  417-) 

9 


NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS.  ,  529 

But  why  should  I  refer,  on  this  occasion,  to  Hume  or  to  Locke, 
when  quotations  to  the  very  same  purpose  are  furnished  by  vari- 
ous writers  of  a  much  later  date?  The  following  is  from  a  book 
published  in  1782. 

"  It  will  not  be  disputed,  but  that  sensations  or  ideas  properly 
"  exist  in  the  soul,  because  it  could  not  otherwise  retain  them  so 
"  as  to  continue  to  perceive  and  think  after  its  separation  from 
"  the  body.  Now,  whatever  ideas  are  in  themselves,  they  are  evi- 
"dently  produced  by  external  objects,  and  must  therefore  corres- 
*'  pond  to  them;  and  since  many  of  the  objects  or  archetypes  of 
"  ideas  are  divisible,  it  necessarily  follows,  that  the  ideas  them- 
"  selves  are  divisible  also.  The  idea  of  a  ma?z,  for  instance,  could 
"in  no  sense  correspond  to  a  man,  which  is  the  archetype  of  it, 

"  and  THEREFORE  COULD    NOT  BE    THE    IDEA  OF  A  MAN,  if  it  did 

"  not  consist  of  the  ideas  of  his  heacl^  arms,  trunk,  legs,  8cc.  It 
"  therefore  consists  of  parts,  and  consequently,  is  divisible.  And 
"  how  is  it  possible,  that  a  thing  (be  the  nature  of  it  what  it  may) 
"  that  is  divisible,  should  be  contained  in  a  substance,  be  the  na- 
"  ture  of  it  likewise  what  it  may,  that  is  indivisible? 

"  If  the  archetypes  of  ideas  have  extension,  the  ideas  expressive 
"  of  them  must  have  extension  likewise;  and  therefore  the  mind, 
'•'■•  in  which  they  exist,  whether  it  be  material  or  immaterial,  must 
"have  extension  also." 

It  will  surprise  and  amuse  some  of  my  readers,  as  a  specimen 
of  the  precipitation  and  inconsistency  of  Dr.  Priestley,  when  they 
learn,  that  the  passage  just  quoted,  is  extracted  from  his  disquisi-. 
tiona  on  matter  and  spirit,  published  eight  years  after  his  attack  on 
Dr.  Reid.  No  form  of  words  could  have  conveyed  a  more  un- 
qualified sanction  than  he  has  here  given  to  the  old  hypothesis 
concerning  ideas; — a  hypothesis  which  he  had  before  asserted  to 
have  been  never  considered  by  any  philosopher,  but  as  a  figurative 
mode  of  expression;  and  which,  when  viewed  in  the  light  of  a 
.theory,  he  had  represented  as  an  absurdity  too  palpable  to  deserve 
a  serious  refutation. 

sx 


530  NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Tlic  ignorance  which  Priestley,  and  his  associates  of  the  Harl- 
Ician  school,  have  discovered  of  the  history  of  a  branch  of  philo- 
sophy which  they  have  presumed  to  decide  upon  with  so  much 
dogmatism,  renders  it  necessary  for  mc  to  remai'k  once  more, 
in  this  place,  that  the  ideas  of  Des  Caites,  and  of  his  successors 
were  little  else  (at  least  so  far  as  fiercefition  is  concerned)  than 
a  new  name  for  the  s/iecies  of  the  schoolmen; — the  various  am- 
biguities connected  with  the  word  idea,  having  probably  contri- 
buted not  a  little  to  shelter  the  doctrine,  in  its  more  modern  dress, 
against  those  objections  to  which  it  must,  at  a  much  earlier  pe- 
riod, have  appeared  to  be  liable,  if  the  old  peripatetic  phraseology 
had  been  retained. 

The  following  passage  from  Hobbes,  while  it  demonstrates 
the  prevalence,  at  no  very  distant  period,  in  its  most  absurd  form, 
of  the  dogma  which  Reid  has  combated,  may  serve  to  illustrate, 
at  the  same  time,  the  inefficacy  of  reason  and  common  sense, 
when  opposed  to  an  established  prejudice. 

't  The  Philosophy  Schools,  through  all  the  Universities  of 
"  Christendom,  grounded  upon  certain  texts  of  Aristotle,  teach, 
*'  that,  for  the  cause  of  7/mon,  the  thing  seen  sendeth  forth,  on 
"  every  side,  a  visible  species,  (in  English,)  a  visible  sheiv,  a/ifiari- 
^'■tiouy  or  aajicct,  or  a  being  seen;  the  receiving  whereof  into  the 
"  eye,  is  seeing.  And  for  the  cause  of  hearing,  that  the  thing 
"  heard  sendeth  forth  an  audible  sjiecies,  that  is,  an  audible  asfxecty 
"  or  audible  being  seen;  which  entering  at  the  ear,  maketh  hear- 
"  ing.  Nay,  for  the  cause  of  understanding,  also,  they  say  the 
"  thing  understood  sendeth  forth  an  intelligible  species,  that  is, 
"  an  intelligible  being  seen;  which  coming  into  the  understanding 
"  makes  us  understand." — "  I  say  not  this"  (continues  Hobbes) 
'  as  disapproving  of  the  use  of  Universities,  but  because,  as  I  am 
"  to  speak  heieafter  of  their  office  in  a  commonwealth,  I  must 
"  let  you  see,  on  all  occasions,  by  the  way,  what  things  should 
"  be  amended  in  them,  amongst  which,  the  frequency  of  insig' 
"  nifcant  speech  is  o?2e."— (Of  Man,  Part  I.  Chap,  i.) 


NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS.  531 

About  one  hundred  and  fifty  years  ago,  when  the  dreams  of  the 
cloister  were  beginning  to  vanish  before  the  dawning  light  of  ex- 
perimental seience,  the  arguments  which  the  schoolmen  were 
obliged  to  have  recourse  to  in  their  own  defence,  afford  a  com- 
mentary on  the  real  import  of  their  dogmas,  which  we  should 
search  for  in  vain  in  the  publications  of  those  ages  when  they  were 
regarded  as  oracles  of  truth,  which  it  was  the  business  of  the  philo- 
sopher not  to  dispute,  but  to  unriddle.  With  this  view,  I  shall  extract 
a  few  remarks  from  a  vindication  of  the  Aristotelian  doctrines,  in 
opposition  to  some  discourses  of  Sir  Kenelm  Dlgby,  by  an  author 
of  considerable  celebrity  among  his  contemporaries;  but  who  is 
indebted  chiefly  for  the  small  portion  of  fame,  which  he  now  en- 
joys, to  a  couplet  of  Hudibras.  The  aim  of  the  reasonings  which 
I  am  to  quote  is  to  shew,  as  the  author  himself  informs  us,  that 
objects  ivork  not  materially.)  but  intentionally  on  the  sense;  and  not- 
withstanding the  buffoonery  blended  with  them,  they  may  be  re- 
garded as  an  authentic  exposition  of  the  scholastic  opinion  on 
this  memorable  question;  a  question  which  Alexander  Ross  ap- 
pears to  have  studied  as  carefully,  and  as  successfully,  as  any  of 
the  writers  who  have  since  undertaken  the  task  of  resolving  it. 

"  The  atoms  are  your  sanctuary  to  which  you  fly  upon  all  oc- 
"  casions.  For  you  will  now  have  these  material  parts  of  bodies 
"  work  upon  the  outward  organs  of  the  senses,  and,  passing 
"  through  them,  mingle  themselves  with  the  spirits,  and  so  to 
"  the  brain.  These  little  parts  must  needs  get  in  at  the  doors  of 
"  our  bodies,  and  mingle  themselves  with  the  spirits  in  the  nerves, 
"  and,  of  necessity,  must  make  some  motion  in  the  brain.  Doubt- 
"less,  if  this  be  true,  there  must  needs  be  an  incredible  motion 
"in  the  brain;  for,  if  the  atoms  of  two  armies  fighting  should 
"  rush  into  your  brain  by  the  eye,  they  will  make  a  greater  mo- 
"  tion  than  Minerva  did  in  Jupiter's  brain.  You  would  call  for  a 
"  Vulcan  to  cleave  your  head,  and  let  out  those  armed  men,  who 
•'  would  cause  a  greater  struggle  in  your  head,  than  the  twins  did 
"'  in  Rebecca's  womb:  For  I  do  not  think  these  little  myrmidons 


532  NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

"  would  lie  so  quiet  in  your  brain  as  the  Grecians  did  in  the  TiO' 
"  jan  horse.  But,  if  the  material  atoms  of  the  object  pierce  the 
"  organ;  as,  for  example,  of  a  horse;  then  tell  us,  how  many  atoms 
"  must  meet  to  make  up  a  little  horse;  and  how  can  that  horse, 
"  being  bridled  and  saddled,  pierce  your  eye  without  hurting  it, 
"especially  if  you  should  see  mounted  on  his  back  such  a  gallant 
"as  St.  George,  armed  with  a  long  sharp  lance;  or  Bellerophon 
"  on  Pegasus?  And  if  a  thousand  eyes  should  look  at  one  time 
"  upon  that  object,  will  it  not  be  much  lessened,  by  losing  so 
"  many  atoms  and  parts,  as  enter  into  so  many  eyes? — Or  can 
"  the  object  miultiply  itself  by  diminution,  as  the  five  loaves  did 
"  in  the  gospel? — Or,  suppose  you  should  see  as  many  horses  at 
"  a  time  as  were  in  Xerxes  his  army,  would  there  be  stable-room 
*' enough  in  your  brain  to  contain  them  all? — Or,  if  you  should 
"  see  a  thousand  horses,  one  after  another,  doth  the  coming  in 
♦'of  the  latter  drive  out  the  former? — Which  Avay  do  they  come 
«  out? — The  same  way  they  went  in? — Or  some  other  way? — Or 
"do  they  stable  altogether  there? — Or  do  they  die  in  the  brain? — 
"  Will  they  not  perish  the  brain,  and  poison  your  optic  spirits, 
"  with  which  you  say  they  are  mingled? — Or,  suppose  you 
"  should  see,  in  a  looking-glass,  a  horse;  doth  the  atoms  of  that 
"  horse  pierce  first  the  glass  to  get  in,  and  then  break  through 
<(the  glass  again  to  get  into  your  eye?  Sure,  if  this  be  your  new 
''^philosojiliy,  you  are  likely  to  have  but  few  sectaries  oi  these 
"  deambulatory  wise  men,  whom  you  call  vulgar  philosophers.* 
"  Is  it  not  easier,  and  more  consonant  to  reason,  that  the  image 
"  or  refircsentation  of  the  object  be  received  into  the  sense,  which 
"  reception  we  call  seiisation,  than  to  say,  that  the  x'cry  materiai 
i^Jiarts  which  you  call  ato7ns,  should  pierce  the  organ?  for  then 
"  the  same  object  must  be  both  one  and  many;  and  so,  if  all  the 
"  inhabitants  of  either  hemisphere  should  look  at  once  on  the 
"  moon,  there  must  be  as  many  moons  as  beholders. 

*  Compare  tliis  witli  Dr.  Beattie's  attempts  at  pleasantry  on  the  very 
theory  which  Aleiander  Ross  considered  us  iiKlisputuble. 


NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS.  533 

"Again,  we  distinguish  that  which  you  confound,  to  wit,  first, 
"  the  organ  which  is  called  sensorium:  secondly,  the  sensitive  fa- 
"  culty,  which  resides  in  the  spirits:"  thirdly,  the  act  of  sensation^ 
"  which  is  caused  by  the  object:  fourthly,  the  of)ject  itself  which 
"  causeth  sensation,  but  not  the  sense  or  faculty  itself:  fifthly,  the 
"  sfiecies  ivhich  is  the  image  of  the  object:  sixthly,  the  iricdiurn^ 
"which  is  air,  water,  &c.:  seventhly,  the  sensitive  soul^  actuating 
"  the  organ,  and  in  it  judging  and  perceiving  the  object,  which 
"  diffuses  and  sends  its  sfiecies,  or  sfiiritual  and  iJitcntional  qualities., 
"  both  into  the  mediunn  and  the  sensorium;  and  this  is  no  more 
"  impossible,  than  for  the  tvax  to  receive  the  impressions  or  figure 
"  of  the  seal,  without  any  of  its  matter."* 

From  this  precious  relic  of  scholastic  subtilty,  we  learn, 
first,  that  the  author  conceived  the  sfiecies  by  means  of  which 
■perception  is  obtained  to  be  really  images  or  refiresentations 
of  external  objects;  second,  that  he  conceived  these  sfiecies 
to  be  altogether  unembodied;  third,  that  the  chief  ground  of  dif- 
ference between  him  and  his  opponent  consisted  in  this,  that 
while  the  one  supposed  the  sfiecies  to  be  immaterial,  the  other 
fancied  them  to  be  composed  oi  atoms  which  enter  by  the  organs 
of  sense,  and  "  make  some  motion  in  the  brain."  In  this  respect, 
Sir  Kenelm  Digby's  hypothesis  seems  to  be  merely  a  revival  of 
the  old  Epicurean  doctrine  with  respect  to  the  tenuia  rerum  simxo- 
lacra;  which  Lucretius  plainly  considered  as  iinages  or  resemblan- 
ces of  sensible  qualities;  perfectly  analogous  to  the  sfiecies  of  the 
peripatetics  in  every  pax'ticular  but  this,  that  they  were  supposed 
to  partake  of  the  matter  as  well  as  oiihe  form  of  their  respective 
archetypes. 

In  the  present  state  of  science,  when  the  phraseology  of  the 
schoolmen  is  universally  laid  aside;  and  more  especially,  since 
the  time  that  the  absurdity  of  their  theory  of  perception  has  been 
so  fully  exposed  by  Dr.  Reid,  it  is  very  easy  to  argue  from  this 

*  The  Philosophical  Touch-stone,  or  Observations  upon  Sir  Kenelm 
Digby's  Discourses  of  the  Nature  of  Bodies,  and  of  the  Rational  Soul.  By 
Alexander  Ross,  London,  1645. 


534  NOTES  AND  ILLUSTR  VTIONS. 

absurdity  against  the  probability  that  the  theory  was  ever  matter 
of  general  and  serious  belief.  It  is  easy,  for  example,  to  ask  what 
notion  it  was  possible  to  unnex'to  the  words  image  or  re/iresenta- 
tion^  when  applied  to  the  sensible  s/iecies,  by  which  we  perceive 
hardness   or  softness,  roughness  or  smoothness,  heat  or  cold? 
The  question  is  surely  a  very  pertinent  one,  and,  to  all  appear- 
ance, sufficiently  obvious;  but  it  does  not  therefore  follow,  that 
it  was  ever  asked,  or  that  it  would  have  produced  much  impres- 
sion, if  it  had  been  asked,  during  the  scholastic  ages.  Such  is 
the  influence  of  words  upon  the  most  acute  understandings,  that 
when  the  language  of  a  sect  has  once  acquired  a  systematical 
coherence  and  consistency,  the  imposing  plausibility  of  the  dress 
in  which  their  doctrines  are  exhibited,  is  not  only  likely  to  draw 
a  veil,  impenetrable  to  most  eyes,  over  many  of  the  inconsisten- 
cies of  thottglit  which  they  may  involve,  but  to  give  a  dexterous 
advocate  infinite  advantages  in  defending  and  vindicating  these 
inconsistencies,  if  they  should  be  brought  under  discussion. — 
When,  on  the  other  hand,  this  technical  language  has  been  sup- 
planted by  a  different  phraseology,  and  when  the  particular  dog- 
mas which  it  was  employed  to  support  come  to  be  examined  in 
separated  and  unconnected  detail,  error  and  absurdity  carry  along 
with  them  the  materials  of  their  own  refutation;  and  the  myste- 
rious garb,  under  which  they  formerly  escaped  detection,  serves 
only  to  expose  them  to  additional  ridicule.   Such  has,  in  fact, 
been  the  case  with  the  scholastic  theory  of  perception,  which,  after 
maintaining  its  ground,  without  any  dispute,  during  a  succession 
of  centuries,  is  now  represented  as  an  extravagance  of  too  great 
a  magnitude,  to  have  been  ever  understood  by  its  abbettors  in  the 
literal  sense  which  their  words  convey.   It  would  be  happy  for 
science,  if  some  of  those  who  have  lately  expressed  themselves 
in  this  manner,  did  not  conceal  from  superficial  readers,  and 
probably  from  themselves  also,  under  a  different,  but  equally 
hypothetical  form  of  words,  the  very  same  fundamental  mistake 
which  revolts  their  judgment  so  strongly,  when  presented  to 
them  in  terms  to  which  they  have  not  been  accustomed. 


NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS.  535 

The  theory  of  Digby,  too,  when  contrasted  with  that  of  his 
antagonist,  is  a  historical  document  of  considerable  importancet 
exhibiting  a  specimen  of  the  first  attacks  made  on  the  system  of 
the  schoolmen,  by  the  partizans  of  the  new  philosophy.  The 
substitution  of  material  images,  instead  of  the  ambiguous  and 
mysterious s/z^aes  of  Aristotle, by  forcing  the  peripatetics  to  speak 
out  their  meaning  a  little  more  explicitly,  did  more  to  bring  them 
into  discredit,  than  the  most  acute  and  conclusive  arguments  of 

their  opponents. Much  about  the  same  time.  Dr.  Hooke 

expressed  himself  not  less  decidedly  about  the  materialitij  of  ideas 
or  i?nages;  employing  a  mode  of  speaking  on  this  subject  not 
very  unlike  that  of  Dr.  Darwin.  Priestley's  language  is  some- 
what different  from  this,  being  faithfully  modelled  after  the  hypo- 
thesis of  his  master,  Dr.  Hartley.  "  If  (says  he)  "  as  Hartley 
"  supposes,  the  nerves  and  brain  be  a  vibrating  substance,  all  sen- 
"  sations  and  ideas  are  vibrations  i?i  that  substance;  and  all  that  is 
"  properly  unknown  in  the  business,  is  the  power  of  the  mind  to 
"  perceive  or  be  affected  with  these  vibrations."  In  what  manner 
Dr.  Priestley  would  have  reconciled  this  inference  with  what  I  have 
already  quoted  from  him  with  respect  to  the  idea  of  extension,  I 
presume  not  to  conjecture. 

As  a  farther  illustration  of  the  notions  which  were  prevalent 
with  respect  to  the  nature  of  seJisible  sfieciesy  and  that  little  more 
than  a  century  ago,  I  shall  quote  a  passage  from  a  treatise,  which, 
notwithstanding  its  unpromising  silbject,  was  evidently  the  work 
of  an  author, — deeply  tainted,  indeed,  with  the  prejudices  of  his 
country  and  of  his  age,  but  of  no  inconsiderable  learning  and  in- 
genuity. The  treatise  I  allude  to  is  entitled,  "AETTEPOSKoniA, 
"  or  a  Brief  Discourse  concerning  the  Second  Sight,  commonly 
"  so  called.  By  the  Rev.  Mr.  John  Frazer,  deceased,  late  minis- 
"  ter  of  Tirrie  and  Coll,  and  Dean  of  the  Isles."  (Edinburgh, 
printed  by  Mr.  Andrew  Symson,  1707.) 

The  passage  seems  to  me  to  deserve  preservation,  as  a  memo- 
rial of  the  state  of  the  Scotish  philosophy  towai-ds  the  end  of  the 


536  NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

seventeenth  century;  and  I  willingly  give  it  a  place  here,  as  the 
book  from  which  it  is  extracted  is  not  likely  to  fall  in  the  way  of 
many  of  my  readers. 

After  mentioning  a  variety  of  anecdotes,  concerning  the  illu- 
sions of  imagination  to  which  hypochondriacal  persons  are  liable, 
when  in  a  state  of  solitude,  the  author  proceeds  thus: — 

"  If  you  will  ask,  how  cometh  this  to  pass?  Take  notice  of  the 
"  following  method,  which  I  humbly  offer  to  your  consideration. 
"  Advert,  in  the  first  place,  that  visible  ideas  or  sjiecies*  are  emit- 
"  ted  from  every  visible  object  to  the  organ  of  the  eye,  reprcscnt- 
"  ing  the  figure  and  colour  of  the  object,  and  bearing  along  with 
"  it  the  proportion  of  the  distance;  for  sure,  the  objects  enter  not 
"  the  eye,  nor  the  interjacent  track  of  ground.  And  a  t/iird  thing, 
"  different  from  the  eye  and  the  object,  and  the  distant  ground, 
"  must  inform  the  eye.  The  sjiecics  are  conveyed  to  the  brain  by 
"  the  optic  nerve,  and  are  laid  up  in  the  magazine  of  the  memory; 
"  otherwise,  we  should  not  remember  the  object  any  longer  than 
'•  it  is  in  our  presence,  and  a  remembering  of  those  objects  is 
"  nothing  else  but  the  fancy's  receiving,  or  more  properly,  the 
"  soul  of  man  by  the  fancy  receiving,  these  intentional  sjiecies  for- 
"  merly  received  from  the  visible  object  into  the  organ  of  the  eye, 
"  and  recondited  into  the  seat  of  the  memory.  Now,  when  the 
"  brain  is  in  a  serene  temper,  these  species  are  in  their  integrity, 
"and  keep  their  rank  and  file  as  they  Averc  received;  but  when 
"  the  brain  is  filled  with  gross  and  flatuous  vapours,  and  the  spi- 
"  riis  and  humours  enraged,  these  ideas  are  sometimes  multiplied, 
"sometimes  magnified,  sometimes  misplaced,  sometimes  con- 
"  founded  by  other  species  of  different  objects,  &c.  See.  and  this 
'•'  deception  is  not  only  incident  to  the  fancy,  but  even  to  the 
"  external  senses,  particularly  the  seeing  and  hearing.  For  the  ^ 
"  visus,  or  seeing,  is  nothing  else  but  the  transition  of  the  inten- 
"  tional  species  through  the  crystalline  humour  to  the  retifonu 

'*  IncoDscquencc  of  the  growing  influence  of  the  Cartesian  philosophy, 
these  words  were  then  beginning  to  be  regarded  as  synonymous. 


NOTES  AND  ILLUSTUATIONS.  537 

"  coat  of  the  eye,  and  judged  by  the  cominon  sense,  and  conveyed 
"  by  the  optic  nerve  to  the  fancy." 

»  *  t  » 

"  Now,  if  these  species  formerly  received  and  laid  up  in  the 
"brain,  vpill  be  reversed  back  from  the  same  to  the  retiform  coat 
"  and  crystalline  humour  as  formerly,  there  is,  in  effect,  a  lively 
"  seeing  and  perception  of  the  object  represented  by  these  spe- 
"cies,  as  ii  de  novo  the  object  had  been  placed  before  the  eye; 
"  for  the  organ  of  the  eye  had  no  more  of  it  before  than  now  it 
"has.  Just  so  with  the  hearing:  it  is  nothing  else  but  the  receiv- 
"  ing  of  the  audible  species  to  that  part  of  the  ear  that  is  accom- 
"  modated  for  hearing;  so  that  when  the  species  are  retracted 
"  from  the  brain  to  their  proper  organs  (for  example,  the  ear 
"and  the  eye),  hearing  and  seeing  are  perfected,  as  if  the  objects 
^'  had  been  present  to  influence  the  organ  de  novo.  And  it  is  not 
"  to  be  thought  that  this  is  a  singular  opinion.  For  Cardanus,  an 
"eminent  author  of  great  and  universal  reading  and  experience, 
"  maintains  this  reversion  of  the  sfiecies,  and  attributes  his  own 
"  vision  of  trees,  wild-beasts,  men,  cities,  and  instructed  battles, 
"  musical  and  martial  instruments,  from  the  fourth  to  the  seventh 
"  year  of  his  age,  to  the  species  of  the  objects  he  had  seen  for- 
"  merly,  now  retracted  to  the  organ  of  the  eye;  and  cites  Aver- 
"  roes,  an  author  of  greater  renown,  for  the  same  opinion."  (See 
Cardanus  de  Subtilitate  rerum,  p.  301.) 

"  And  it  seems  truly  to  be  founded  upon  relevant  grounds.  I 
"  liave  observed  a  sick  person  that  complained  of  great  pain  and 
"molestation  in  his  head,  and  particularly  of  piping  and  sweet 
"  singing  in  his  ears;  which  seems  to  have  been  caused  by  the 
^^  species  oj" piping  and  singi}!^  which  he  had  formerly  heard;  but 
"  were  now,  through  the  plethory  of  his  head,  forced  out  of  the 
"  brain  to  the  organ  of  the  ear,  through  the  same  nerve  by  which 
"  they  were  received  formerly;  and  why  may  not  the  same  befai 
"  the  visible  species  as  well  as  the  audible?  which  seems  to  be 
."  confirmed  by  this  optic  experiment:  Take  a  sheet  of  painted 

3» 


.538  NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

"  paper,  and  fix  it  in  your  Avindow,  looking  stedfastly  td  it  for  a 
••'  considerable  time;  then  close  your  eyes  very  strait,  and  open 
"  your  eyes  suddenlyvyou  will  see  the  paintings  almost  as  lively 
"  as  they  were  in  the  painted  sheet,  with  the  lively  colours.  This 
"  compression  of  the  eyes,  by  consent  causes  a  compression  of 
"  the  whole  brain,  which  forces  back  the  visible  species  of  the 
''  painted  sheet  to  the  organ  of  the  eye  through  the  optic  nerve, 
"  which  will  presently  evanish  if  the  reflectant  did  not  help  to 
"  preserve  them.  You  may  see  then  how  much  of  these  repre- 
"  sentations  may  be  within  ourselves,  abstracting  from  any  ex- 
"ternal  agent  or  object,  without  the  eye  to  influence  the  same." 
Were  it  not  for  the  credulity  displayed  by  Mr.  Frazer,  in  va- 
rious parts  of  his  book,  one  would  almost  be  tempted  to  consider 
the  foregoing  theory  as  the  effort  of  a  superior  mind  combating 
the  superstitious  prejudices  of  his  age,  with  such  weapons  as  the 
erroneous  philosophy  of  that  age  could  supply.  Perhaps  the  spirit 
of  the  times  did  not  allow  him  to  carry  his  scepticism  farther 
than  he  did.  A  Lord  President  of  our  Supreme  Court  in  Scot- 
land (one  of  the  most  eminent  and  accomplished  men  whom  this 
country  has  produced)  is  said  to  have  been  an  advocate  for  this 
article  of  popular  faith  more  than  fifty  years  afterwards. 


NOTE  (H),  P.  114. 

In  the  passage  from  Locke,  quoted  in  the  foot-note,  p.  1 13,  a 
hint  is  given  (very  unworthy  of  his  good  sense)  towards  a  new 
theory  of  the  creation  of  matter.  It  is  a  remarkable  circumstance, 
that  a  theory  on  the  same  subject  was  suggested  to  Priestley  by 
certain  speculations  of  his  own,  approaching  very  nearly  to  the 
doctrines  of  Boscovich;  a  coincidence  which  strikes  me  as  a  strong 
additional  presumption  in  favour  of  that  interpretation  which  I 
have  given  to  Locke's  words. 

"  I  will  add  in  this  place,  though  it  will  be  considered  more  fully 


NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS,  539 

«  hereafter,  that  this  supposition  of  matter  having  (besides  exten- 
"^  sion)  no  other  properties  but  those  of  attraction  and  I'epulsion, 
"  greatly  relieves  the  difficulty  which  attends  the  supposition  of 
"  the  creation  of  it  out  of  nothings  and  also  the  continual  moving 
"  of  it,  by  a  being  who  has  hitherto  been  supposed  to  have  no 
*^  common  property  with  it.  For,  according  to  this  hypothesis, 
"  both  the  creating  mind,  and  the  created  substance,  are  equally 
"  destitute  of  solidity  or  inifienetr ability;  so  that  there  can  be  no 
"  difficulty  whatever  in  supposing,  that  the  latter  may  have  been 
"the  offspring  of  the  former." — Disquisitions  on  Matter  and 
Spirit,  Vol.  I.  p.  23.  (Birmingham,  1782.) 


NOTE  (I),  P.  135. 

Notwithstanding  the  apology  which  I  have  offered  for  the  word 
instinct,  as  it  has  been  sometimes  employed  by  writers  on  the 
Human  Mind,  I  am  perfectly  sensible  that  it  has  been  used,  on 
various  occasions,  even  by  our  most  profound  reasoners,  with  too 
great  a  degree  of  latitude.  Examples  of  this  might  be  produced, 
both  from  Mr.  Hume  and  Mr.  Smith;  but  I  shall  confine  myself, 
in  this  note,  to  a  passage  from  Dr.  Reid  (by  whose  phraseology  I 
was  led  to  introduce  the  subject  at  present)  in  which  he  gives  the 
name  oi  instinct  to  the  sudden  effort  we  make  to  recover  our  ba- 
lance, when  in  danger  of  falling;  and  to  certain  other  instantaneous 
exertions  which  we  make  for  our  own  preservation,  in  circum- 
stances of  unexpected  danger. — (See  his  Essays  on  the  Active 
Powers  of  Man,  p.  174.  4to  edit.) 

In  this  particular  instance,  I  agree  perfectly  (excepting  in  one 
single  point)  with  the  following  very  judicious  remarks  long  ago 
made  by  Gravesande: 

"  II  y  a  quelque  chose  d'admirable  dansle  moyen ordinaire  dont 
"  les  hommes  se  servent,  pour  s'empecher  de  toraber:  car  dans  le 
"  terns  que,par  quelque  mouvement,le  poids  du  corps  s'augment^ 


540  NOTES  And  illustrations. 

"  d'un  cote,  un  autre  mouvement  rfetablitrequilibre  dans  l*instant; 
"  On  attribue  communement  la  chose  a  un  inntinct  naturel,  quoi- 
"  qu'il  fiville  necessairement  I'attribuer  a  un  art  perfectionne  par 
"  I'exercice. 

"  Les  enfans  ignorent  absolument  cet  art  dans  les  premieres 
"  annees  de  lenr  vie;  ils  I'appr^nnent  pen  a  peu,  et  s'y  perfec- 
"  tionnent,  parce  qu'ils  ont  continuellement  occasion  de  s'y  exer- 
"  cer;  exercice  qui,  dans  la  suite,  n'exige  presque  plus  aucune 
"  attention  de  leur  part;  tout  conime  un  musicien  remue  les 
"  doigts,  suivant  les  regies  de  Tart,  pendant  qvi'il  appergoit  a  peine 
"  qu'il  y  fasse  la  moindre  attention." — (Oeuvres  Philosophiques 
de  M. 'SGravesande,  p.  121.  Seconde  Partie.  Amsterdam,  1774.) 

The  only  thing  I  am  disposed  to  object  to  in  this  extract,  is 
that  clause  where  the  author  ascribes  the  effort  in  question  to  an. 
art.  Is  it  not  manifestly  as  wide  of  the  truth  to  refer  it  to  this 
"source  as  to  pure  instinct? 

The  word  art  implies  intelligence;  the  perception  of  an  end, 
and  the  choice  of  means.  But  where  is  there  any  appearance  of 
either,  in  an  operation  common  to  the  whole  species  (not  ex- 
cluding the  idiot  and  the  insane); — and  which  is  practised  as  suc- 
cessfully by  the  brutes,  as  by  those  who  are  possessed  of  reason. 

I  intend  to  propose  some  modifications  of  the  usual  modes  of 
speaking  concerning  this  class  of  phenomena,  when  I  come  to 
contrast  the  faculties  of  Man  with  those  of  the  lower  animals. 


NOTE  (K),  P.  140. 

Want  of  room  obliges  me  to  omit,  at  present,  the  illustrations 
destined  for  this  note;  and  to  refer  to  some  remarks  on  secondary 
qualities,  in  the  Philosophy  of  the  Human  Mind.  See  note  (P),  at 
the  end  of  that  work;  where  I  have  attempted  to  explain  the  re- 
ference we  make  of  the  sensation  of  colour,  to  the  exteraal  object; 
the  only  difficulty  which  the  subject  seems  to  me  to  present,  and 


NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS.  541 

of  which  neither  Dr.  Reid  nor  Mr.  Smith  have  been  sufficiently 
awai  e.  (See  Reid's  Inquiry  into  the  Human  Mind;  and  the  Essay 
on  the  External  Senses,  in  Mr.  Smith's  Posthumous  Work.)  Both 
of  these  writers  have,  in  my  opinion*  been  led  to  undervalue  this 
part  of  the  Cartesian  Philosophy,  by  the  equivocal  use  made  in 
the  common  statenients  of  it,  of  the  names  of  secondary  qualities; 
a  circumstance  which  had  long  before  been  ably  commented  on  by 
Maleoranche — D'Alen.bert  saw  the  difficulty  in  all  its  extent, 
when  he  observed  (speaking  of  the  sensation  of  colour):  "  Rien 
"n'est  peut-etre  plus  extraordinaire  dans  les  operations  de  notre 
"ame,  que  de  la  voir  transporter  hors  d'elle-meme  et  etendre, 
"  pour  ainsi  dire,  ses  sensations  sur  une  substance  a  laquelle  elles 
"  ne  peuvent  appartenir." 

Berkeley  has  made  a  dexterous  and  amusing  use  of  this  very 
curious  mental  phenomenon,  to  prove  that  his  scheme  of  idealism 
was  perfectly  consonant  to  the  common  apprehensions  of  man- 
kind. 

"  Perhaps,  upon  a  strict  inquiry,  we  shall  not  find,  that  even 
"  those  who  from  their  birth  have  grown  up  in  a  continued  habit 
"  of  seeing,  are  irrecoverably  prejudiced  on  the  other  side,  to  wit, 
"  in  thinking  what  they  see  to  be  at  a  distance  from  them.  For  at 
"  this  time  it  seems  agreed  on  all  hands,  by  those  who  have  had 
<'  any  thoughts  of  that  matter,  that  colours^  Avhich  are  the  proper 
"  and  immediate  objects  of  sight,  are  not  without  the  mind.  But 
"  then  it  will  be  said,  by  sight  we  have  also  the  ideas  of  extension, 
"  and  figure,  and  motion;  all  which  may  well  be  thought  tvithout, 
«  and  at  some  distances  from  the  mind,  though  colour  should  not. 
"  In  answer  to  this,  I  appeal  to  any  man's  experience,  whether  the 
"  visible  extension  of  any  object  doth  not  appear  cs  near  to  him  as 
« the  colour  of  that  object;  nay,  whether  they  do  not  both  seem  to 
"  be  in  the  very  same  place.  Is  not  the  extension  we  see  coloured, 
«  and  is  it  possible  for  us,  so  much  as  in  thought,  to  separate  and 
"  abstract  colour  from  extension?  Now,  where  the  extension  is, 
"  there  surely  is  the  figure,  and  there  the  motion  too. — I  speak  of 


542  NOTES  ANb  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

« those  which  are  perceived  by  sight."— (Essay  towards  a  Ne^Hr 
Theory  of  Vision,  p.  255.) 


NOTE  (L),  P.  144. 

I  intended  to  have  introduced  here,  some  doubts  and  queries 
with  respect  to  the  origin,  or  rather  to  the  history  of  the  notion  of 
Extension;  not  with  any  view  to  an  explanation  of  a  fact  which  I 
consider,  wilh  the  eminent  philosophers  referred  to  in  the  text, 
as  altogether  unaccountable;  but  to  direct  the  attention  of  my 
readers  to  a  more  accurate  examination  than  has  been  hitherto 
attempted,  of  the  occasions  on  which  this  notion  or  idea  is  at  first 
foiTTied  by  the  mind.  Whatever  light  can  be  thrown  on  this  very 
obscure  subject  may  be  regarded  as  a  valuable  accession  to  the 
natural  history  of  the  human  understanding. 

It  was  long  ago  remarked  by  Dr.  Reid,  (and  indeed  by  other 
writers  of  a  still  eai'lier  date)  that  to  account  for  the  idea  of  Ex- 
tension-by  the  motion  of  the  hand,  is  a  paralogism,  as  this  supposes 
a  firevious  knowledge  of  the  existence  of  our  own  bodies. 

Condillac  does  not  appear  to  have  been  suflicicntly  aware  of 
this;  nor  even  that  most  acute  and  profound  philosopher,  the  late 
Mr.  Smith.  In  his  Essay  on  the  External  Senses  (published  in 
his  posthumous  volume),  he  all  along  supposes  the  mind  in  pos- 
session of  the  idea  for  the  origin  of  which  he  is  attempting  to 
account.  How  do  we  get  the  notion  of  what  Mr.  Smith  calls  ex- 
ternalitij,  and  Berkeley  outness?  Is  not  this  only  a  particular  mo- 
dification of  the  idea  of  extension? 

The  same  remark  may  be  applied  to  some  late  speculations  on 
this  subject,  by  M.  Destutt-Tracy.  They  are  evidently  the  result 
of  great  depth  and  refinement  of  thought;  but,  like  those  of  Mr. 
Smith,  they  will  be  found,  on  an  accurate  examination,  to  involve 
what  logicians  call  a  fietitio  princifdi. 

I  am  strongly  inclined,  at  the  same  time,  to  think,  that  the  idea 


KOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS.  543 

of  extermon  involves  the  idea  of  inotion;  or  to  express  myself 
more  explicitly,  that  o\xi  Jirst  notions  of  extension  are  acquired 
by  the  effort  of  moving  the  hands  over  the  surfaces  of  bodies,  and 
by  the  effort  of  moving  our  own  bodies  from  place  to  place.  The 
reference  which  Smith  and  Debtutt-Tracy,  as  well  as  many  ear- 
lier inquirers  have  made  to  the  viotion  of  the  hand,  in  their  attempts 
to  clear  up  this  mystery,  fui-nishes  a  strong  presumption,  that 
motion  is  somehow  or  other  concerned  in  the  business.  I  differ 
from  them  only  in  this:  that  whereas  they  seem  to  have  considered 
their  theory  as  affording  some  explanation  of  the  origin  of  the 
idea,  to  me  it  appears,  if  well-founded,  to  exhibit  this  problem  in 
a  form  still  more  manifestly  insolvable  than  that  in  which  it  is 
commonly  viewed. 

From  the  fallowing  queiy  of  Berkeley's,  it  may  be  inferred 
what  his  opinion  was  on  the  point  in  question.  "  Whether  it  be 
«  possible,  that  we  should  have  had  an  idea  or  notion  of  Extension 
*'  prior  to  Motion?  Or  whether,  if  a  man  had  never  perceived  Mo- 
"  tion,  he  would  ever  have  knowTi  or  conceived  one  thing  to  be 
"  distant  from  another?'* 

To  this  query  I  have  already  said,  that  I  am  disposed  to  reply 
in  the  negative;  although,  in  doing  so,  I  would  be  understood  to 
express  myself  with  the  greatest  possible  diffidence.  One  obser- 
vation, however,  I  may  add,  without  the  slightest  hesitation,  that 
if  the  idea  of  Extension  presupposes  that  of  motion,  it  must,  of 
necessity,  presuppose  also  that  of  Time. 

The  prosecution  of  this'last  remark  has  led  me  into  some  spe- 
culations, which  appear  to  myself  to  be  interesting;  but  to  whiiTh 
I  find  it  impossible  to  give  a  place  in  this  volume. 


NOTE  (M),  P.  156. 

**  Tous  les  systemes  possibles  sor  la  generation  des  idees,  pcii- 
^  vent  «tre  rappelcs  guant  a  Icur  firindfie  fondamentale,  k  oetle 


5r44  NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

"  simple  alternative;  ou  toutes  nos  idees  ont  leur  origine  dans  lee 
"  impressions  des  sens;  ou  il  y  a  des  idees  qui  n'ont  point  leur 
"  origine  dans  ces  impressions,  et  par  consequent  qui  sont  pla- 
"  cees  dans  Tame  immediatement,  et  qui  lui  appartiennent  en 
"  vertu  de  sa  seule  nature. 

"  Ainsi  les  opinions  des  philosophes  anciens  ou  modernes  sur 
*'  la  generation  des  idees,  se  pla9eront  d'elles  meme  sur  deux 
"  lignes  oppos6es;  celles  des  philosophes  qui  ont  adopte  le  prin- 
"  cipe,  nihil  est  in  intellectu  quin  firiusfu^rit  in  sensu;  celles  des 
"  philosophes  qui  ont  cru  aux  idees  innees,  ou  inherenlcs  a  I'in- 
«  telligence.". — De  la  Generation  des  Connoissances  Humaines, 
pp.  8  et  9.  (A  Berlin,  1802.) 


NOTE  (N),  P.  160. 

I  have  substituted  the  words  consciousness  and  fierce/ition,  in- 
stead of  the  sensation  and  reflection  of  Locke,  for  two  reasons: 
1.  Because  sensation  does  not,  in  strict  philosophical  propriety,  or, 
at  least,  not  in  a  manner  quite  unequivocal,  express  the  meaning 
which  Locke  intended  to  convey;  the  knowledge,  to  wit,  which  we 
obtain  by  means  of  our  senses,  of  the  qualities  of  matter:  2.  Be- 
cause reflection  cannot,  according  to  Locke's  own  us6  of  the 
term,  be  contrasted  either  with  sensation  or /zerct/z/fon;  inasmuch 
as  it  denotes  an  operation  of  the  intellect^  directing  its  attention 
lo  the  subjects  of  consciousness;  and  bearing  to  that  power  the 
same  relation  in  which  observation  stands  to  fiercejition. 

I  must  own,  at  the  same  time,  that  I  could  never  assent  en- 
tirely to  the  justness  of  the  following  criticism  on  Locke's  clas- 
sification, which  occurs  in  the  conclusion  of  Dr.  Reid's  Inquity 
into  the  Human  Mind.  ^'  The  division  of  our  notions  into  ideas 
«  of  sensation,  and  ideas  of  reflection,  is  contrary  to  all  rules  of 
"  Logic;  because  the  second  member  of  the  tliyision  includes  the 
*<  first.  For,  can  we  form  clear  and  just  notions  of  our  sensatigns 

2 


NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS.  545 

';'  any  other  way  than  by  reflection?  Surely  we  cannot.  Sensation 
"  is  an  operation  of  the  mind  of  which  we  are  conscious;  and  w& 
"  get  the  notion  of  sensation  by  reflecting  upon  that  which  we 
"  are  conscious  of." 

That  this  criticism  would  have  been  perfectly  just,  if  Locke 
had  used  the  words  sensation  and  reflection^  in  the  definite  and 
precise  acceptations  invariably  annexed  to  them  in  Reid's  writ- 
ings, must  undoubtedly  be  granted.  Nay,  I  am  inclined  to  think, 
that  it  applies  nearly  to  Locke's  own  opinion,  when  interpreted 
according  to  some  subsequent  applications  which  he  himself  has 
made  of  it;  and  which,  by  resolving  every  thing  into  the  evi- 
dence of  consciousness,  have  an  obvious  tendency  to  confound 
our  sensations  and  our  perceptions  together.  But,  in  proposing 
this  classification,  in  the  beginning  of  his  Essay,  there  can  be  no 
doubt,  that  Locke  meant  by  sensation  what  Reid  calls /zerce/i/fow^ 
and  therefore,  to  those  who  have  not  studied,  with  rnore  than  or- 
dinary care,  the  whole  of  Locke's  system,  it  is  not  surprising  that 
Reid  should  have  the  appearance  of  availing  himself  of  a  verbal 
ambiguity  to  gain  an  undue  and  uncandid  advantage  over  his  il- 
lustrious predecessor. — (See  Priestley's  Remarks  on  this  subject 
in  his  Examination  of  Reid.) 

Dr.  Reid's  criticism,  too,  on  Locke's  trespass  against  the  rules 
of  logical  division  is,  I  think,  too  severe;  and  derives  its  plausi- 
bility from  the  ambiguity  of  the  word  rejiection,  which  Locke,  in 
this  instance,  as  well  as  in  many  others,  employs  as  synonymous 
with  consciousness.*  It  is  for  this  reason,  that  I  have  substituted 
the  latter  word  instead  of  the  former,  as  expressing  Locke's 
meaning  with  greater  precision  and  clearness. 

When  Locke's  statement  is  thus  interpreted,  it  does  not  seem 

*  This  ambiguity  in  the  term  refiection  is  particularly  taken  notice  of  in 
Dr  Reid's  essays  on  the  intelltctual  powers.  *'  Refiection  ought  to  be  dis- 
"  tinguished  from  consciousness,  with  which  it  is  too  often  confounded, 
"  even  by  Locke.  All  men  are  conscious  of"  the  operations  of  their  own 
"  minds,  at  all  times,  while  they  are  awake;  but  there  are  few  who  reflect 
"  upon  them,  or  make  them  objects  of  thought."— P.  60.  4to  edit. 

3  Zt 


546  NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIOXS. 

to  merit,  in  all  its  extent^  the  censure  which  Reid  has  bestowed 
on  it.  The  account  which  it  gives,  indeed,  of  the  origin  of  our 
ideas,  is  extremely  iricoinfdete;  but  it  cannot  be  said  that  one 
member  of  his  division  includes  the  other;  the  first  relating  ex- 
clusively to  the  properties  of  matter,  and  the  second  exclusively 
to  the  internal  phenomena  of  mind. 

I  grant,  upon  the  other  hand,  that  if,  with  Locke's  statement, 
we  combine  all  the  subsequent  reasonings  in  his  essay,  Dr.  Reid's 
criticism  is  not  so  wide  of  the  mark;  for  I  have  already  endea- 
voured to  shew,  that  some  of  his  favourite  doctrines  involve,  as  a 
necessary  consequence,  that  consciousness  is  the  sole  and  exclu- 
sive source  of  all  our  knowledge.  But  this  is  merely  an  argumen- 
tum  ad  homi7ii'7n;  not  a  pi'oof,  that  the  division  would  have  been 
faulty,  if  detached  from  the  speculations  which  afterwards  occur. 
Nor  would  it  have  been  even  a  correct  enunciation  of  the  error 
on  which  thk  argument  turns,  to  say,  that  the  second  member  of 
the  division  included  the  first; — the  first  and  second  members, 
according  to  that  interpretation,  being  comfiletely  identified. 


NOTE(O),  P.  193. 

Mr.  Locke  himself  prepared  the  way  for  Mr.  Tooke's  re-" 
searches,  by  the  following  observations,  of  which,  however,  I  do 
not  recollect  that  any  notice  is  taken  in  the  Diversions  ofPurley. 
"  It  may  also  lead  us  a  little  towards  the  original  of  all  our  no- 
"  tions  and  knowledge,  if  we  remark  how  great  a  dependence 
"  our  words  have  on  common  sensible  ideas;  and  how  those  which 
"  are  made  use  of  to  stand  for  actions  and  notions  quite  removed 
"  from  sense,  have  their  rise  from  thence,  and  from  obvious  sen- 
"  sible  ideas  are  transferred  to  more  abstruse  significations,  and 
"  made  to  stand  for  ideas  that  come  not  under  the  cognizance  of 
"  our  senses,  viz.  to  imagine,  apprehend,  comprehend,  adhere, 
"  conceive,  instil,  disgust,  disturbance,  tranquillity,  Sec.  are  all 


JsTOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS.  547 

«  words  taken  from  the  operations  of  sensible  things,  and  applied 
*  to  certain  modes  of  thinking.  Spirit,  in  its  primary  signification, 
"  is  breath:  Angel,  a  messenger;  and  I  doubt  not.,  but  if  we  could 
"  trace  them  to  their  sources,  we  should  Jind,  in  all  languages,  the 
"  names  which  stand  for  things  that  fall  not  tinder  our  senses,  to 
"  have  had  their  first  rise  from  sensible  ideas."  From  the  sentence 
which  follows,  it  also  appears,  that  Locke,  as  well  as  his  ingeni- 
ous disciple,  was  disposed  to  connect  this  philological  speculation 
■with  his  own  account  of  the  origin  of  our  ideas. — "  By  which  we 
"  may  give  some  kind  of  guess  what  kind  of  notions  they  were, 
V  and  whence  derived,  which  filled  their  minds,  who  were  the 
"  first  beginners  of  languages;  and  how  nature,  even  in  the 
"  naming  of  things,  unawares  suggested  to  men  the  originals  and 
^^  prijicifiles  of  all  their  knowledge." 

Condillac,  in  his  Essai  sur  I'origine  des  Connoisances  Humaines^ 
has  given  his  sanction  to  this  conclusion  of  Locke  (Seconde  Par- 
tie,  Sect.  1,  chap,  x.)  And  another  writer,  far  superior,  in  my 
opinion,  to  Condillac,  as  a  metaphysician,  has  brought  forward 
the  philological  fact  stated  in  the  foregoing  paragraph,  as  a  /zew 
argument  in  favour  of  the  theory  which  refers  to  sensation  the 
elements  of  all  oar  knowledge. 

"  L'imperfection  des  langues  en  ce  qu'elles  rendent  presque 
"  toutes  les  idees  intellectuelles  par  des  expressions  figurees, 
"  c'est-a-dire  par  des  expressions  destinees,  dans  leur  significa- 
"  tion  propre,  a  exprimer  les  idees  des  objets  sensibles;  et  re- 
"  marquons  en  passant,  que  cet  inconvenient,  commun  a  toutes 
"  les  langues,  suflRroit  peut-etre  pour  montrer  que  c'est  en  effet 
"  a  nos  sensations  que  nous  devons  toutes  nos  idees,  si  cette  ve- 
"  rite  n'etoit  pas  d'ailleurs  appuyee  de  mille  autres  preuves 
"  incontestables."* 

Hobbes  seems  to  have  been  the  first,  or,  at  least,  one  of  the 
first  who  started  the  idea  of  tliis  sort  of  etymological  metapliy- 
sics.  "  If  it  be  a  false  affirmation"  (he  observes  in  one  passage) 

*  Melang'es,  Tome  V.  p.  26.  Amsterdam,  1767. 


548  NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

"  to  say  a  quadrangle  is  round,  the  word  round  quadrangle  signi- 
«  fies  nothing,  but  is  a  mere  sound.  So  likewise,  if  it  be  false  to 
*'  say,  that  virtue  can  be  fioured,  or  blown  ufi  ajid  down,  the  words 
*'  in'fioured  (infused)  virtue^— in-blown  (inspired)  virtue,  are  as 
"  absurd  and  insignificant  as  a  round  quadrangle .  And  therefore 
*'  you  shall  hardly  meet  with  a  senseless  and  insignificant  word, 
"  that  is  not  made  up  of  some  Latin  or  Greek  names."— See 
page  1 11,  of  the  folio  edition  of  Hobbes,  printed  at  London  in 
1750;  and  compare  it  with  page  103  of  the  same  volume. 


NOTE  (P),  P.  206. 

I  do  not  quote  the  following  lines  as  a  favourable  specimen  of 
the  Abb6  de  Lille's  poetry,  but  merely  as  an  illustration  of  the 
heterogeneous  metaphors  which  obtrude  themselves  on  the  fan- 
cy, whenever  we  attempt  to  describe  the  phenomena  of  Memory. 
It  is  but  justice  to  him  to  remark,  at  the  sam.e  time,  that  some 
of  them  (particularly  those  printed  in  Italics)  do  no  small  honour 
to  his  philosophical  penetration. 

*'  Cependant  des  objets  la  trace  passagere 

*'  S'enfuirait  loin  de  nous  comme  une  ombre  legere, 

**  Si  le  ciel  n'eut  cree  ce  d^pot  precieux, 

"  Ou  le  gout,  I'odorat,  et  I'oreille,  et  les  ycux, 

"  Viennent  de  ces  objets  dcposer  les  images, 

"  La  memoire.  A  ce  nom  se  troublent  tous  nos  sagesi 

"  Quelle  main  a  creuse  ses  secrets  reservoirs? 

"  Quel  Dieu  range  avcc  art  tous  ces  nombreux  tiroirs, 

"  Les  vide  ou  les  remplit,  lesreferme  ou  les  ouvre? 

**  Les  nerfs  sont  ses  sujets,  et  latete  est  son  Louvre. 

*'  Mais  comment  a  ses  lois  toujours  obeissants, 

"  Vont-ils  a  son  empire  assujettir  les  sens? 

*'  Comment  I'entcndeiit-ils,  sltot  qu'elle  commande? 

'*  Comment  un  souvenir  qu'en  vain  elle  demande, 

"  Dans  un  temps  plus  heureux  promptement  accouru; 


NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS.  549 

*'  Quand  je  n'y  songeais  pas,  a-t-il  done  reparu? 

*'  Au  plus  ancien  depot  quelquefois  si  fidele, 

"  Sur  un  depot  recent  pourquoi  me  trahit-elle  ? 

"  Pourquoi  cette  memoije,  agent  si  merveilleux, 

"  D^pend-elle  des  temps,  du  hasard  et  des  lieux? 

"  Par  les  soins,  par  les  ans,  par  les  maux  affaiblie, 

*■'  Comment  ressemble-t-elle  a  la  cire  vieillie, 

"  Qui  fidele  au  cachet  qu'elle  admit  autrefois, 

"  Refuse  une  autre  empreinte  et  resiste  a  mes  doigts! 

*'  Enfin,  dans  le.cerveau  si  I'image  est  tracee, 

"  Comment  peut  dans  un  corps  s'imprimer  la  pensee? 

"  Ldfinit  ton  savoir,  inortel  audacieux; 
*'  Va  mesurer  la  terre,  interro^er  les  deux, 
"  De  rimniense  univers  regie  Fordre  supreme; 
*'  Mais  ne  pretends  jamais  te  corinattre  toi-memci 
"  J^d  s'ouvre  sous  tes  yeux  un  abim.e  sans  fonds." 

De  Lille.  L'Imagination,  Chant  I. 


NOTE(Q),  P.  217. 

«  It  is  never  from  an  attention  to  etymology,  which  would  fre- 
"  quently  mislead  us,  but  from  custom,  the  only  infallible  guide 
"  in  this  matter,  that  the  meanings  of  words  in  present  use  must 
"  be  learnt.  And  indeed,  if  the  want  in  question  were  material, 
"  it  would  equally  affect  all  those  words,  no  inconsiderable  part 
"  of  our  language,  whose  descent  is  doubtful  or  unknown.  Be- 
"  sides,  in  no  case  can  the  line  of  derivation  be  traced  backwards 
"  to  infinity.  We  must  always  terminate  in  some  words  of  whose 
"  genealogy  no  account  can  be  given." — Campbell's  Philosophy 
of  Rhetoric,  Book  ii.  chap.  2. 

In  this  remark  I  perfectly  agree  with  the  very  acute  and  judi- 
cious writer;  but  I  do  not  well  see  its  connection  with  the  follow- 
ing note  which  is  subjoined  to  it. 

"  Dr.  Johnson,  who,  notwithstanding  his  acknowledged  learn- 
*  ing,  penetration,  and  ingenuity,  appears  sometimes,  if  I  may 


550  NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

«  adopt  his  own  expression, '  lost  in  lexicography,'  hath  declared 
«  the  name  fiunch,  which  signifies  a  certain  mixt  liquor  very  well 
"  known,  a  cant  word,  because,  being  to  appearance  without  ety- 
"  mology,  it  hath  probably  arisen  from  some  silly  conceit  among 
"  the  people.  The  name  sherbet,  which  signifies  another  known 
"  mixture,  he  allows  to  be  good,  because  it  is  Arabic;  though, 
"  for  aught  we  know,  its  origin  among  the  Arabs  hath  been 
"  equally  ignoble  or  uncertain.  By  this  way  of  reckoning,  if  the 
«  word  punch,  in  the  sense  wherein  we  use  it,  should,  by  any 
"  accident,  be  imported  into  Arabia,  and  come  into  use  there,  it 
"  would  make  good  Arabic,  though  it  be  but  cant  English;  as 
"  their  sherbet,  though,  in  all  likelihood,  but  cant  Arabic,  makes 
"  good  English.  This,  I  own,  appears  to  me  A^eiy  capricious." — 
Ibid. 

I  cannot  help  being  of  opinion,  that,  in  Dr.  Johnson's  decision 
concerning  the  comparative  rank  of  these  two  words  in  the  Eng- 
lish language,  he  has  greatly  the  advantage  over  his  critic;  al- 
though nothing,  undoubtedly,  can  be  more  absurd  than  the  piin- 
ci/ile  on  which  it  proceeds;  that  "  those  words,  which  being  to 
"  appeai'ance  without  etymology,  have  probably  arisen  from  some 
"  silly  conceit  among  the  people,"  ought,  on  that  account,  to  be 
banished  from  good  writing.  The  real  ground  of  the  difference, 
in  point  of  effect,  which  the  words  punch  and  sherbet  produce  on 
the  ear  of  an  Englishman  is,  that  the  former  recals  images  of  low 
life  and  of  disgusting  intemperance;  whereas  the  latter,  if  it  at  all 
awakens  the  fancy,  transports  it,  at  once,  to  the  romantic  regions 
of  the  East.  If  the  Arabians  were  to  feel  with  respect  to  England, 
as  every  well-educated  Englishman  feels  with  respect  to  Arabia, 
the  word  punch  could  not  fail  to  affect  their  ear,  as  the  word 
sherbet  does  ours.  Nor  should  this  be  ascribed  to  caprice,  but  to 
the  general  and  unalterable  laws  of  the  human  frame. 

To  a  Frenchman  who  never  visited  this  island,  and  who  knows 
English  manners  by  description  alone,  the  word  jiuyich  has,  by  no 
means,  the  same  air  of  vulgarity  with  which  it  appears  to  oiir 


NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS.  55  X 

eyes.  In  fact,  I  am  inclined  to  believe,  that  fionche  and  sorbet 
would  be  considered  by  him  as  words  of  the  same  class,  and 
standing  veiy  nearly  on  the  same  level. 

I  shall  avail  myself  of  the  opportunity  which  the  last  quotation 
from  Dr.  Campbell  affords  me,  to  express  my  surprise,  that  an 
author  who  has  illustrated,  so  very  ably  as  he  has  done,  the  para- 
mount authority  of  custom  in  all  questions  relative  to  language, 
should  have  adhered,  with  such  systematic  obstinacy,  to  the  an- 
tiquated hath  in  preference  to  has.  In  discourses  from  the  pulpit 
it  certainly  contributes  to  the  solemnity  of  style;  in  consequence, 
partly,  of  the  use  made  of  it  in  our  excellent  translation  of  the 
Bible;  and  partly,  of  its  rare  occurrence  in  our  ordinary  forms 
of  speaking.  If  it  were  universally  substiiuted  for  has  (as  Swift 
wished  it  to  be),  it  would  lose  this  charm  altogether;  while,  in  the 
mean  time,  nothing  would  be  added  to  our  common  diction,  but 
stiffness  and  formality.  A  choice  of  such  expressions,  according 
to  the  nature  of  our  subject,  is  an  advantage  which  our  language 
possesses  in  no  inconsiderable  degree;  nor  ought  it  to  be  the  ob- 
ject of  a  philosophical  critic  to  sacrifice  it  to  a  mere  speculative 
refinement. 

If  analogy  is  to  be  followed  uniformly  as  a  guide,  why  does 
Campbell,  in  the  very  same  sentence  with  hath^  make  use  of  such 
words  as  signi/ies  and  allows.'— Why  not  sigyiifieth  and  alloweth? 


NOTE  (R),  P.  235. 

I  do  not  here  go  so  far  as  to  assert,  that  a  blind  man  might  not 
receive,  by  means  of  touch,  something  analogous  to  our  notion  of 
beauty.  In  the  case  of  those  who  see,  the  word  is,  in  no  instance 
that  I  can  recollect,  applied  immediately  to  the  perceptions  of 
that  sense;  but  this  question,  though  started  in  one  of  the  vo- 
lumes of  the  Encyclofiediei  is  of  no  moment  whatever  in  the  pre- 
sent inquiry,  I  have  no  objection,  therefore,  to  acquiesce  in  the 
following;  statement,  as  it  is  there  given. 


552.  NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

"  II  n'y  a  ni  beau  ni  laid  pour  I'odorat  et  le  gout.  Le  Pere  An- 
"  drci  Jesuite,  dans  son  Essai  stir  le  Beau^  joint  me  me  a  ces  deux 
"  sens  celui  de  toucher:  mais  je  crois  que  son  systeme  peut-etre 
"  contredit  en  ce  point.  II  me  semble  qu'un  aveugle  a  des  idees 
"  de  rapport,  d'ordre,  de  symmetric,  et  que  ces  notions  sont  en- 
"  trees  dans  son  eniendement  par  le  toucher,  comme  dans  le  no- 
"  tre  par  la  vue,  moins  parfaites  peut-etre,  et  moins  exactes: 
"  mais  cela  prouve  tout  au  plus,  que  les  aveugles  sont  moins  af- 
"  fectes  du  beau  que  nous  autres  clairvoyans — En  un  mot,  il  me 
"  paroit  bien  hardi  de  prononcer,  que  I'aveugle  statuaire  qui  fai- 
"  soit  des  bustes  ressemblans,  n'avoit  cependant  aucune  idee  de 
"  beaute." — Encyclop.  Artie.  Beaute. 

That  our  notions  of  the  beauty  of  visible  objects  are,  in  many 
instances,  powerfully  modified  by  associations  originally  suggest- 
ed by  the  sense  of  touchy  will  afterwards  appear. 


NOTE  (S),  P.  260. 

The  following  extract  from  a  letter  of  Dr  Swift's  to  Lord  Pe- 
terborough, in  which  he  ridicules  some  of  the  partial  and  confined 
maxims  concerning  gardening  which  were  current  in  his  time, 
maybe  applied  {mutatis  mutandis)  to  most  of  the  theories  hither- 
to proposed  with  respect  to  the  beautiful  in  general. 

"  That  this  letter  may  be  all  of  a  piece,  I'll  fill  the  rest 

'*  with  an  account  of  a  consultation  lately  held  in  my  neighbour- 
"  hood,  about  designing  a  princely  garden.  Several  critics  were 
"  of  several  opinions:  one  declared  he  would  not  have  too  much 
"  art  in  it:  for  my  notion  (said  he)  of  gardening  is,  that  it  is  only 
"  sweeping  nature:  another  told  them,  that  gravel-walks  were 
"  not  of  a  good  taste,  for  all  the  finest  abroad  were  of  loose  sand: 
"  a  third  advised  peremptorily  there  should  not  be  one  lime-tree 
'«  in  the  whole  plantation:  a  fourth  made  the  same  exclusive  clause 
"  extend  to  horse-chesnuts,  which  he  affirmed  not  to  be  trees, 

2 


NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS.  553 

"  but  weeds.  Dutch  elms  were  condemned  by  a  fifth;  and  thus 
"  about  half  the  trees  were  proscribed,  contrary  to  the  Paradise 
"  of  God's  own  planting,  which  is  expressly  said  to  be  planted 
"  with  all  trees.  There  were  some  who  could  not  bear  ever- 
"  greens,  and  called  them  never-greens;  some  who  were  angry  at 
"  them  only  when  cut  into  shapes,  and  gave  the  modern  garden- 
"  ers  the  name  of  ever-green  taylors;  some,  who  had  no  dislike 
"  to  cones  and  cubes,  but  would  have  them  cut  in  forest-trees; 
"  and  some  who  were  in  a  passion  against  any  thing  in  shape, 
"  even  againsj;  dipt  hedges,  which  they  called  green  walls. 
"  These  (my  Lord)  are  our  men  of  taste,  who  pretend  to  prove 
"  it  by  tasting  little  or  nothing.  Sure  such  a  taste  is  like  such  a 
"  stomach,  not  a  good  one,  but  a  weak  one." 

"  I  have  lately  been  with  my  Lord who  is  a  zealous  yet  a 

"  charitable  planter,  and  has  so  bad  a  taste,  as  to  like  ali  that  is 
"  good."  Pope's  Works. 


NOTE  (T),  P.  283. 

The  following  definition  of  the  word  Picturesque  is  given  by 
the  Abbe  du  Bos,  in  his  critical  reflections  on  poetry  and  paint- 
ing. I  do  not  think  it  corresponds  exactly  with  any  acceptation 
in  which  it  has  ever  been  understood  in  this  country.  In  one  res- 
pect, it  approaches  to  the  definition  of  Gilpin,  mentioned  in  the 
text. 

"  J'appelle  composition  pittoresque,  I'arrangement  des  objets 
"  qui  doivent  entrer  dans  un  tableau  pur  rapport  a  I'effet  general 
"  du  tableau.  Une  bonne  composition  pittoresque  est  celle  dont 
"  le  coup  d'oeil  fait  un  grand  effet,  suivant  Tintention  du  peintre 
"  et  le  but  qu'il  s'est  propose.  II  faut  pour  cela  que  le  tableau  ne 
"  soit  point  embarasse  par  les  figures,  quoiqu'il  y  en  ait  assez 
"  pour  remplir  le  toile.  II  fait  que  les  objets  s'y  demelent  facile- 
*'  ment.  II  ne  faut  pas  que  les  figures  s'estropient  Tune  I'autrs, 

4A 


554.  NOTES  AND  ILLUSTllxVTIONS. 

«  en  se  cachant  r^ciproquement  la  moide  de  la  tete,  ni  d'autrcs 
"  parties  du  corps,  lesquelles  il  convient  au  sujet  de  i'aire  voir. 
"  If  faut  entin,  que  les  groupes  soient  bien  composes,  que  la  lu- 
"  miere  leur  soil  distribuee  judicieusement,  ct  que  les  couleurs 
"  locales,  loin  de  s'entretuer,  soient  disposees  dc  maniere  qu'il 
"  resulte  du  tout  une  harnionie  aijreeable  al'ceil  parcUc-meme."* 

The  chief  din'crcucc  between  this  definition  and  that  of  Gilpin 
is,  that  the  latter  refers  chielly  to  natural  objects;  the  former  ex- 
clusively to  painting.  But  both  agree  in  one  common  idea,  that 
of  a  landscape  so  comfiostd  as  to  produce  a  happy  effect  in  a  pic- 
ture. Du  Bos  applies  the  epithet  to  this  composition  when  exhi- 
bited by  the  artist  on  canvas:  Gilpin,  to  such  compositions  when 
they  happen  to  be  sketched  out  to  the  painter's  pencil  by  the  hand 
of  nature  herself.  Gilpin's  definition,  therefore,  presupposes  the 
idea  which  Du  Bos  attempts  to  explain;  and  may,  perhaps,  be 
considered  as  a  generalization  of  it,  applicable  both  to  the  com- 
binations of  nature,  and  to  the  designs  of  art.  It  is  in  the  former 
of  these  senses,  however,  that  he  in  general  uses  the  word 
through  the  whole  of  his  Essay. 

It  is  remarkable,  that  Sir  J.  Reynolds  seems,  at  one  time,  to 
have  been  disposed  to  restrict  the  meaning  of  picturesque  to  na- 
tural objects;  while  the  definition  of  Du  Bos  would  restrict  it  to 
the  art  of  painting.  From  a  note  of  Mr.  Gilpin's,  it  appears,  that 
when  his  Essay  was  first  communicated  to  Reynolds,  the  latter 
objected  to  the  use  he  sometimes  made  of  the  term  picturesque; 
observing,  that,  in  his  opinion,  "  this  word  should  be  applied  only 
^'  to  the  works  of  nature."t  But  on  this  point  he  seems  to  have 
changed  his  opinion  afterwards4  In  an  earlier  performance,  too, 
of  Reynolds,  we  find  the  word  employed  by  himself,  in  the  very 
same  sense  in  which  he  objects  to  it  in  the  above  sentence. 
Speaking  of  a  picture  of  Rubens  (the  crucifixion  of  Christ  be- 

*  Reflexions  Ciitiques,  &c.  Sect. 31. 

t  Three  Essays  on  l^ictuj-csqiie  Beauty,  pp.  3j,  36. 

X  Letter  to  Gilpin,  ibid. 


NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS.  555 

tvireen  the  two  thieves,  at  Antwerp),  he  observes,  that "  the  three 
"  crosses  are  placed  prospectively  in  an  uncommonly  picturesque 
"  manner"  Sec.  &c.  (See  the  rest  of  the  passage,  which  is  worth 
consulting,  in  his  journey  through  Flanders  and  Holland,  in  the 
year  1781.) 


NOTE  (U),  P.  235. 

Mr.  Price  has  stated,  with  his  usual  acuteness  and  candour, 
the  essential  difference  between  the  Jihilulogicul  quesLion  concern- 
ing the  propriety  of  his  language  upon  this  subject;  and  the  Jihi- 
losojfihical  question  concerning  the  reality  of  the  distinction  upon 
which  his  treatise  hinges.  1  differ  from  him  only  in  this,  that  I 
consider  the  former  question  as  of  much  greater  importance  than 
he  seems  to  attach  to  it.  His  words  are  these: — 

"  I  must  here  observe  (and  I  wish  the  reader  to  keep  it  in  his 
"  mind),  that  the  inquiry  is  not  in  what  sense  certain  words  are 
"  used  in  the  best  authors,  still  less  what  is  their  common  and 
"  vulgar  use  and  abuse;  but  whether  there  are  certain  qualities 
"  which  uniformly  produce  the  same  effects  in  all  visible  objects, 
"  and,  according  to  the  same  analogy,  in  objects  of  hearing,  and 
"  of  all  the  other  senses;  and  which  qualities  (though  frequently 
"  blended  and  united  with  others  in  the  same  object  or  set  of  ob- 
"  jects)  may  be  separated  from  them,  and  assigned  to  the  class 
"  to  which  they  belong, 

"  If  it  can  be  shewn,  that  a  character  composed  of  these  qua- 
"  lilies,  and  distinct  from  all  others,  does  prevail  through  all  na-r 
"  ture;  if  it  can  be  traced  in  the  different  objects  of  art  and  of 
"  nature,  and  appears  consistent  throughout,  it  surely  deserves 
"  a  distinct  title;  but,  with  respect  to  the  real  ground  of  uiquiry,  it 
"  matters  little  whether  such  a  character,  or  the  set  of  objects 
"  belonging  to  it,  is  called  beautiful,  sublime,  or  picturesque,  or 
"  by  any  other  name,  or  by  no  name  at  all."* 

•  Essay  on  the  Picturesque,  pp.  40,  41 


556  NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

These  remarks  must  be  received  with  very  important  fimita- 
tions;  for,  granting  them  to  hold  (as  they  certainly  do  to  a  con- 
siderable extent)  with  respect  to  the  use  of  words  in  any  particu- 
lar language,- they  certainly  will  not  apply  to  cases  where  the 
same  trandtive  or  vietafihorical  meanings  toilow,  in  a  variety  of 
different  tongues,  the  corresponding  terms  in  all  of  them.  This,  I 
flatter  myself,  I  nave  already  shewn  with  sufficient  clearness. 

As  to  the  philoHOphical  question  about  the  two  sets  of  qualities 
distinguished  by  Mr.  Price,  I  not  only  agree  with  him  in  almost 
all  the  critical  observations  which  he  has  introduced  in  the  course 
of  the  discussion,  but  I  esteem  his  work,  as  eminently  calculated} 
in  its  practical  tendency,  to  reform  and  to  improve  the  public  taste. 
I  confess,  at  the  same  time,  1  am  somewhat  afraid,  that  the 
vagueness  and  ambigtiity  of  his  favourite  term  may  give  rise  to 
many  misapplications  of  his  principles,  very  remote  from  the  in- 
tentions of  the  author.  The  picturesque  cottages,  and  picturesque 
porters'-lodges,  which  have  lately  been  starting  up  all  over  the 
country,  (to  the  greater  part  of  which  we  may  apply  the  happy 
expression  of  De  Lille — "  Veutetre  pittoresque  et  n'est  que  ridi- 
"  cule,")  afford  a  proof,  that  this  apprehension  is  not  without 
some  foundation. 


NOTE(X),  P.  313. 

"  Un  peintre,  qui  de  tous  les  talens  necessaires  pour  former  le 
"  grand  artisan,  n'a  que  celui  de  bien  co/orer,  decide  qu'un  tableau 
'*  est  excellent,  ou  qu'il  nc  vaut  rien  en  general,  suivant  que 
"  Touvrier  a  sgu  manicr  la  couleur.  La  poesie  du  tableau  est 
"  comptee  pour  peu  de  chose,  pour  rien  meme,  dans  son  juge- 
"  ment.  II  fait  sa  decision,  sans  aucun  egard  aux  parties  de  Tart 
*'•  quil  n'a  point."  (Reflexions  Crit.  sur  la  Poesie  et  sur  la  Pein- 
ture.) 


NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS.  557 


NOTE  (Y),  P.  322. 

For  the  follo^ving  very  judicious  remark  of  Mr  Burke's,  on  the 
philosophical  speculations  of  Sir  J.  Reynolds,  the  public  is  in- 
debted to  Mr  Malone.  (V.  1.  XCVII.) 

"  He  was  a  great  generalizer,  and  was  fond  of  reducing  every 
'<  thing  to  one  system,  more  perhaps  than  the  variety  of  princi- 
*'  pies  Avhich  operate  in  the  human  mind,  and  in  every  human 
'*  woi'k,  will  properly  endure.  But  this  disposition  to  abstractions^ 
"  to  generalizing,  and  classification,  is  the  greatest  glory  of  the 
"  human  mind,  that  indeed  which  most  distinguishes  man  from 
"  other  animals,  and  is  the  source  of  every  thing  that  can  be  call- 
"  ed  science.  I  believe,  his  early  acquaintance  with  Mr.  Mudge 
«  of  Exeter,  a  very  learnfedand  thinking  man,  and  much  inclined 
•*'  to  philosophize  in  the  spirit  of  the  Platonists,  disposed  him  to 
"  this  habit.  He  certainly,  by  that  means,  liberalized,  in  a  high 
"  degree,  the  theory  of  his  own  art;  and  if  he  had  been  more  me- 
«  thodically  instituted  in  the  early  part  of  life,  and  had  possessed 
«  more  leisure  for  study  and  reflection,  he  would,  in  my  opinion, 
<*  have  pursued  this  method  with  great  success." 


NOTE  (Z),  P.  348. 

Since  finishing  this  Essay,  I  find,  that  I  have  been  partly  anti- 
cipated in  the  foregoing  remark  by  Mr.  Hume,  who,  in  his  Trea- 
tise of  Human  Nature,  expresses  himself  thus: — 

«  'Tis  a  quality  very  observable  in  human  nature,  that  any  op- 
"  position  which  does  not  entirely  discourage  and  intimidate  us, 
"  has  rather  a  contrary  eflFect,  and  inspires  us  with  a  more  liian 
"  ordinary  grandeur  and  magnanimity.  In  collecting  our  force  to 
"  overcome  the  opposition,  we  invigorate  the  soul,  and  give  it  an 
"  elevation  with  which  otherwise  it  would  never  have  been  ac- 


558  XOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

"  quainted.  Compliance,  by  rendering  our  strength  useless, 
"  makes  us  insensible  of  it;  but  opposition  awakens  and  employs 
»« it. 

«  This  is  also  true  in  the  inverse.  Opposition  not  only  enlarges 
"  the  soul,  but  the  soul,  when  full  of  courage  and  magnanimity, 
"  in  a  manner  seeks  opposition.— —These  principles  have  an 
"  effect  on  the  imagination  as  well  as  on  the  passions.  To  be  con- 
^'  vinced  of  this,  we  need  only  consider  the  influence  of  height* 
"  and  dcfiths  on  that  faculty.  Any  great  elevation  of  place,  com- 
*'  municates  a  kind  of  pride  or  sublimity  of  imagination,  and  gives 
"  a  fancied  superiority  over  those  that  lie  below;  and,  vice  versa^ 
"  a  sublime  and  strong  imagination  conveys  the  idea  of  ascent 
"  and  elevation.  Hence  it  proceeds,  that  we  associate,  in  a  man- 
"  ner,  the  idea  of  whatever  is  good  with  that  of  height,  and  evil 
"  with  lowness.  Heaven  is  supposed  to  be  above,  and  hell  below. 
*'  A  noble  genius  is  called  an  elevated  and  subiinie  one.  Ei  udam 
*'  Sfiernit  humum  fugiente  jienna.  On  the  contrary,  a  vulgar  and 
"  trivial  conception  is  styled  indifferently,  low  or  mean.  Prospe- 
«  rity  is  denominated  ascent,  and  adversity  descent.  Kings  and 
"  princes  are  supposed  to  be  placed  at  the  top  of  human  affairs; 
"  as  peasants  and  day-labourers  are  said  to  be  in  the  lowest  sta- 
"  tions.  These  methods  of  thinking  and  of  expressing  ourselves, 
"  are  not  of  so  little  consequence  as  they  may  appear  at  first 
"  sight. 

"  *Tis  evident  to  common  sense  as  well  as  philosophy,  that 
"  there  is  no  natural  nor  essential  difference  betwixt  high  and 
'^  loM',  and  that  this  distinction  only  arises  from  the  gravitation  of 
"  matter^  which  produces  a  motion  from  the  one  to  the  other. 
"  The  very  same  direction,  which  in  this  part  of  the  globe  is 
"  called  ascent,  is  denominated  descent  in  our  antipodes;  which 
**  can  proceed  from  nothing  but  the  contrary  tendency  of  bodies. 
"  Now  'tis  certain,  that  the  tendency  of  bodies,  continually  ope- 
"  rating  upon  our  senses,  must  produce,  from  custom,  a  like  ten- 
"  dency  in  the  fancy,  and  that  when  wc  consider  any  object 
"  situated  in  an  ascent,  the  idea  of  its  weight  gives  us  a  propen- 


NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS.  559 

'<  sity  to  transport  it  from  the  place  in  which  it  is  situated  to  the 
^'  place  immediately  below  it,  aiid  so  on  'till  we  come  to  the 
"  ground,  which  equally  stops  the  body  and  our  imagination.  For 
*'  a  like  reason  we  feel  a  difficulty  in  mounting,  and  pass  not 
"  without  a  kind  of  reluctance  from  the  inferior  to  that  which  is 
"  situated  above  it,  as  if  our  ideas  acquired  a  kind  of  gravity  from 
"  their  objects.  As  a  proof  of  this,  do  we  not  find  that  the  facility, 
"  which  is  so  much  studied  in  music  and  poetry,  is  called  the 
"  fall  or  cadency  of  the  harmony  or  period;  the  idea  of  facility 
"  communicating  to  us  that  of  descent,  in  the  same  manner  as 
"  descent  produces  a  facility? 

"  Since  the  imagination,  therefore,  in  running  from  low  to 
"  high,  finds  an  opposition  in  its  internal  qualities  and  principles, 
"  and  since  the  soul,  when  elevated  with  joy  and  courage,  in  a 
"  manner  seeks  opposition,  and  throws  itself  with  alacrity  into 
"  any  scene  of  thought  or  action,  where  its  courage  meets  with 
«  matter  to  nourish  and  employ  it;  it  follows,  that  every  thing 
"  which  invigorates  and  enlivens  the  soul,  whether  by  touching 
"  the  passions  or  imagination,  naturally  conveys  to  the  fancy  this 
*'  inclination  for  ascent,  and  determines  it  to  run  against  the  na- 
"  tural  stream  of  its  thoughts  and  conceptions.  This  aspiring 
"  progress  of  the  imagination  suits  the  present  disposition  of  the 
"  mind;  and  the  difficulty,  instead  of  extinguishing  its  vigour  and 
"  alacrity,  has  the  contrary  effect  of  sustaining  and  increasing  it. 
**  Virtue,  genius,  power,  and  riches,  are  for  this  reason  associated 
«  with  height  and  sublimity,  as  poverty,  slavery,  and  folly  are 
"  conjoined  with  descent  and  lowness.  Were  the  case  the  same 
"  with  us  as  Milton  represents  it  to  be  with  the  angels,  to  whom 
**  descent  ia  adverse^  and  who  cannot  sink  without  labour  and  cotn- 
"  fiulsioTi,  this  order  of  things  would  be  entirely  inverted;  as  ap-r 
"  pears  hence,  that  the  very  nature  of  ascent  and  descent  is  dc- 
"  rived  from  the  difficulty  and  propensity,  and,  consequently.. 
"  every  one  of  their  effects  proceeds  from  that  origin."  Treatise 
•f  Human  Nature,  Vol.  II.  p.  281,  et  seq. 


560  NOTES  AND  IIXUSTRATIONS. 

Though  I  must  have  repeatedly  read  the  above  passage  ia 
Mr.  Hume's  works,  it  had  totally  escaped  my  recollection,  till  I 
met  with  a  short  abstract  of  it  very  lately,  in  turning  over  Dr. 
(Gerard's  ingenious  Essay  on  Taste. 


NOTE  (A  a),  P.  349. 

"  As  for  the  position,  or  attitude  of  virtue;  though  in  a  histo- 
<►  rical  piece,  such  as  ours  is  designed,  it  would  on  no  account  be 
"  proper  to  have  immediate  recourse  to  the  way  of  emblem;  one 
"  might,  on  this  occasion  endeavour,  nevertheless,  by  some  arti- 
"  fice,  to  give  our  figure,  as  much  as  possible,  the  resemblance  of 
"  the  same  goddess,  as  she  is  seen  on  medals,  and  other  ancient 
"  emblematic  pieces  of  like  nature.  In  this  view,  she  should  be  so 
"  designed,  as  to  stand  firm  with  her  full  poise  upon  one  foot, 
"  having  the  other  a  little  advanced  and  raised  on  a  broken  piece 
"  of  ground  or  rock,  instead  of  the  helmet  or  little  globe  on  which 
«  we  see  her  usually  setting  her  foot,  as  triumphant,  in  those 
"  pieces  of  the  emblematic  kind.  A  particular  advantage  of  this 
"  attitude,  so  judiciously  assigned  to  virtue  by  ancient  masters, 
"  is,  that  it  expresses  as  well  her  aspiring  effort,  or  ascent  to- 
"  wards  the  stars  and  heaven,  as  her  victory  and  superiority  over 
"  fortune  and  the  world.  For  so  the  poets  have  described  her. 
"  And  in  our  piece  particularly,  where  the  arduous  and  rocky 
"  way  of  virtue  requires  to  be  emphatically  represented,  the  as- 
"  cending  posture  of  this  figure,  with  one  foot  advanced,  in  a  sort 
"  of  climbing  action,  over  the  rough  and  thorny  ground,  must  of 
"  necessity,  if  well  executed,  create  a  due  effect,  and  add  to  the 
"  sublime  of  this  ancient  poetic  work." 

See  a  treatise,  by  Lord  Shaftesbury,  entitled,  "  A  Notion  of  the 
"  Historical  Draught  of  the  Judgment  of  Hercules,  according  t» 
''  Prodicus,  Sec" 

See  also  La  Gerusalemmc  Liberata.  Canto  17.  Stan.  61,  62. 

2 


NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS.  561 


NOTE(Bb),  P.  356. 

In  Boileau's  translation  of  Longinus,  as  in  the  English  one  of 
Smith,  the  word  fixB-oi  is  omitted;  but  in  the  edition  of  this  trans- 
lation, published  by  M.  de  St  Marc,  the  following  note  is  sub- 
joined to  the  text:  "  Le  Grec  dit  un  art  du  Sublime  ou  du  Pro- 
'■^fond.  Tous  les  interpretes  ont  pris  ces  deux  termes  pour 
"  synonymes.  J'ai  peine  a  croire,  que  Longin  ait  voulu  les  em- 
"  ployer  comme  tels.  Ce  n'est  que  dans  ce  seul  endroit  qu'ils 
"  sont  mis  avec  la  particule  disjonctive;  partout  ailleurs  la  con- 
"  jonction  les  unit  dans  une  meme  phrase,  Je  pense  done,  que 
"  par  le  sublime  et  le  profond  notre  Rheteur  a  voulu  presenter 
"  deux  idees  differentes.  Et  dans  le  fait,  ces  deux  diff6rentes 
"  idees  conviennent  egalement  a  son  sujet.  La  Profundeur  n'est 
"  pas  moins  necessaire  que  le  Sublime  a  la  grand  eloquence." 

Instead,  however,  of  supposing  Longinus  to  have  been  in- 
fluenced, in  the  above  passage,  by  the  conceit  suggested  by  the 
French  critic,  it  seems  to  me  much  more  reasonable  to  conclude, 
that  he  had  an  eye  to  the  similarity  of  the  impressions  produced, 
in  many  instances,  by  height  and  by  defith^  both  in  their  literal  and 
in  their  figurative  acceptations.  Various  proofs  of  this  similarity 
will  occur  in  the  sequel  of  this  Essay. 


NOTE  (C  c),  P.  363. 

The  tedious  controversy  about  the  sublimity  of  this  passage  of 
scripture,  which  was  provoked  among  the  French  critics,  by  a 
letter  from  Huet,  Bishop  of  Avranches,  to  the  Duke  of  Montau- 
sier,  would  now  be  scarcely  remembered  (at  least  in  this  coun- 
try), were  it  not  for  the  space  which  it  is  so  absurdly  allowed  to 

4  B 


562  NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

occupy,  in  some  of  the  best  editions  of  Boileau's  works.'  The 
only  English  writer  of  note  who  has  given  any  countenance  to 
the  Bishop's  paradox  is  Lord  Karnes,  who,  after  mentioning  the 
dispute  to  which  it  gave  rise,  as  a  curious  occurrence  in  literary 
history,  observes  that,  in  the  opinions  held  by  both  parties,  there 
was  a  mixture  of  truth  and  of  error;  the  passage  in  question  be- 
ing sublime  in  one  point  of  view,  and  not  sublime  in  another.  For 
the  grounds  on  which  this  decision  rests,  see  Elements  of  Criti- 
cism. 

A  French  poet  of  our  own  times,  in  alluding  to  the  wonders 
of  creative  power,  has  attempted,  by  means  of  a  very  singular 
personification,  to  rise  still  higher  than  the  sacred  historian. 
With  what  success  I  leave  to  the  reader  to  judge. 

"  L'im  agination,  feconde  enchantresse, 

"  Qiii  fait  mieiix  que  garder  et  que  se  souvenir, 

"  Retrace  le  passe,  devance  I'avenir, 

"  Refait  tout  ce  qui  fut,  fait  tout  ce  qui  doit  etre, 

"  Dit  a  I'un  d'exister,  a  I'autre  de  renaitre; 

"  Et  comme  a  I'Eternel,  quand  sa  voix  I'appela, 

"  L'etre  encore  au  n^ant  hit  repond:  me  Voild." 

It  is  with  some  regret  I  mention,  that  these  lines  are  extracted 
from  the  works  of  an  author,  equally  distinguished  by  the  beauty 
and  the  fertility  of  his  genius, — the  Abbe  de  Lille. 


NOTE(Dd),  P.  365. 

Mr.  Burke  has  passed  too  slightly  over  the  subject  of  injinityt 
without  turning  his  attention  to  its  two  different  modifications,— 
immensity  and  eternity.  The  latter  seems  to  me  to  contribute  still 
more  to  the  sublime  than  the  former.  Is  not  this  owing  to  its 
coming  home  more  directly  to  our  personal  feelings:  and  conse- 
quently (according  to  Mr.  Burke's  own  doctrine)  to  a  certaih 


NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS.  553 

mixture  of  the  terrible,  or  at  least  of  the  awful,  inseparable  from 
the  conception? 

With  respect  to  that  portion  of  eternity  which  is  already  past, 
there  is  another  circumstance  which  conspires  with  those  already 
mentioned,  in  leading  us  to  connect  with  it  an  emotion  of  subli- 
mity,  1  mean  the  bias  of  the  mind  (arising  chiefly,  it  is  pro- 
bable, from  associations  early  established  in  the  fancy  by  the  phe- 
nomena of  falling  bodies)  in  speaking  of  the  history  of  former 
ages,  to  employ  words  literally  expressive  of  elevated  position. 
We  call  ourselves  "  the  descendants  of  our  ancestors;" — we  speak 
of  "tracing  up-  our  genealogy;" — "  of  honours  or  of  estates  des- 
cending in  the  male,  or  in  the  female  lines."  We  speak,  in  like 
manner,  of  traditions  handed  down  from  one  generation  to  ano- 
ther; nay,  we  sometimes  employ  the  word  /ligh,  as  synonymous 
with^  extremely  ancient.  «  The  nominal  observation"  (says  Dr. 
Brown  in  a  sentence  quoted  by  Dr.  Johnson)  "  of  the  several  days 
"  of  the  week  is  very  hig/i,  and  as  old  as  the  ancient  Egyptians, 
"  who  named  the  same  according  to  the  seven  planets."  Another 
authority  to  the  same  purpose  is  afforded  by  Prior: 

*'  The  son  of  Adam  and  of  Eve, 

*'  Can  Bourbon  or  Nassau  go  higher?" 

Is  not  the  veneration  with  which  we  look  up  to  antiquity  partly 
owing  to  the  influence  of  these  associations? — Mr  Hume  has  at- 
tempted to  account  for  it  upon  a  diff'erent  principle;  but  his  theory 
is  to  me  quite  unintelligible:  "  Because  we  find  greater  difficulty, 
"  and  must  employ  supei'ior  energy,  in  running  over  the  parts  of 
"  duration  than  those  of  space;  and  in  ascending  through  past 
"  duration,  than  in  descending  thi'ough  what  is  future;  therefore, 
"  we  value  higher,  and  contemplate  with  greater  veneration, 
''  things  distant  in  time,  than  things  remote  in  space,  and  the 
"  persons  and  objects  of  antiquity,  than  those  which  we  figure  to 
"  ourselves  in  the  ages  of  futurity."  What  are  we  to  understand 
by  t/ie  superior  energy  we  employ  in  rnnning  over  the  parts  ofdu' 


564  NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

ration  than  those  oj's/iqce;  and  in  ascending  through  fiast  duration, 
than  in  descending  through  what  is  future?  So  far  as  I  am  able  to 
annex  any  meaning  to  this  passage,  the  fact  is  precisely  the  re- 
verse of  what  is  here  stated.  To  ascend  through  ^cs?  duratioHy 
is  the  habitual  employment  of  the  mind  in  the  exercise  of  me- 
mory, and  in  the  study  of  history.  To  descend  through  future 
duration,  by  anticipating  events  before  they  happen,  is,  of  all  em- 
ployments of  the  understanding,  the  most  difficult;  and  it  is  one, 
in  which  the  soundest  and  most  sagacious  judgments  are  perpe- 
tually liable  to  error  and  disappointment.  It  is  singular,  that  the 
use  which  Mr.  Hume  has  made,  in  the  above  sentence,  of  the 
metaphorical  expressions  ascending  and  descendirig,  did  not  Sug- 
gest to  him  a  simpler  solution  of  the  problem. 

I  will  take  the  liberty  of  remarking  further,  with  respect  to 
this  theory  of  Mr.  Hume's,  that  it  is  not  "  with  our  anticip^ions 
*'  of  the  future,  that  our  veneration  for  the  persons  and  objects  of 
«  antiquity"  ought  to  have  been  contrasted,  but  with  our  senti- 
ments concerning  what  is  contemporary  with  ourselves,  or  of  a 
very  modern  date.  The  idea  of  the  future,  which  is  the  region  of 
all  our  hopes,  and  of  all  our  fears,  is,  in  most  cases,  for  that  very 
reason,  more  interesting  to  the  imagination  than  the  idea  of  the 
past;  and  the  idea  of  the  eternity  post  (to  borrow  a  scholastic 
phrase)  incomparably  more  so  than  that  of  the  eternity  ante. 

The  bias  of  the  mind  to  connect  together  the  ideas  of  antiquity y 
and  of  elevated  filace,  is  powerfully  confirmed  by  another  associa- 
tion, coinciding  entirely  with  the  former,  in  suggesting  the  same 
modes  of  expression.  Among  the  various  natural  objects  which 
attract  a  child's  curiosity,  there  is,  perhaps,  none  which  awakens 
a  more  lively  interest,  than  the  river  which  it  sees  daily  and  hourly 
hastening  along  its  channel.  Whence  does  it  come?  and  where 
is  it  going?  are  questions  which  some  of  my  readers  may  still  re- 
member to  have  asked:  Nor  is  it  even  impossible,  that  they  may 
retain  a  faint  recollection  of  the  surprise  and  delight  with  which 
they  first  leaiiied)  that  rivers  come  down  from  the  mountains^ 


NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS.  565 

and  that  they  all  run  into  the  sea.  As  the  faculties  of  the  under- 
standing begin  to  open  to  notions  abstracted  from  matter,  an  ana- 
logy comes  invariably  and  infallibly  to  be  apprehended  between 
this  endless  stream  of  ivaier,  and  the  endless  stream  of  time;  an 
analogy  rendered  still  more  impressive  by  the  parallel  relations 
which  they  bear,  the  one  to  the  Ocean,  the  other  to  Eternity.  The 
flux  of  time,  the  lapse  of  time,  the  tide  of  time,  with  many  other  ex- 
pressions of  the  same  sort,  afford  sufficient  evidence  of  the  facility 
with  which  the  fancy  passes  from  the  one  subject  to  the  other. 
Hence,  too,  it  is,  that  the  antiquary  is  said  to  trace  the  history  of 
laws,  of  arts,  and  of  languages,  to  Xheiv  fountain  heads,  or  original 
sources;  and  hence,  the  synonymous  meanings,  wherever  time  is 
concerned,  of  the  words  backward  and  ufiward.  To  carry  our  re- 
searches ufi  or  back  to  a  particular  aera,  are  phrases  equally  sanc- 
tioned by  our  best  writers.  Nor  is  it  only  in  our  own  language 
that  these  terms  are  convertible.  In  the  Greek,  they  are  so  to  a 
still  greater  extent;  the  preposition  xvec,  when  in  composition, 
sometimes  having  the  force  of  the  word  sursum,  sometimes  that 
of  the  word  retro. 

It  is  scarcely  necessary  for  me  to  remark,  how  exactly  and  how 
irresistibly  all  these  different  associations  conspire  with  each 
other,  in  producing  an  uniformity  of  thought  and  of  language 
among  mankind,  with  respect  to  the  two  great  modifications  of 
time,  the  past  and  the  future. 

I  shall  only  mention  one  other  circumstance,  contributing  to 
the  same  end. — The  filial  respect  with  which  we  literally,  as  well 
as  metaph6rically,  look  ufi  to  our  parents,  during  our  early  years, 
insensibly  extends  itself  to  their  progenitors,  producing,  not  un- 
naturally, that  illusion  of  the  imagination  which  magnifies  the  en- 
dowments, both  bodily  and  mental,  of  our  ancestors,  in  proportion 
as  we  carry  our  thoughts  backward  from  the  present  period;  and 
which,  in  ruder  ages,  terminates  at  last  in  a  sentiment  approach- 
ing nearly  to  that  of  religion.  Datur  hec  venia  antiguitati,  ut 
miscendo  Humana  divinisy  firimordta  rerum  augustiora  faciat . 


566  NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

In  the  Christian  world,  however,  it  is  chiefly  the  scripture  his- 
tory which  has  invested  remote  antiquity  with  a  character  of  sub- 
limity, blending  our  earliest  religious  impressions  with  the  pic- 
tures of  patriarchal  manners,  with  the  events  of  the  antediluvian 
ages,  with  the  story  of  our  first  parents,  and,  above  all,  with  the 
emotions  inspired  by  that  simple  and  sublime  exorrfmrn,— "  In 
"  the  beginning,  God  created  the  Heavens  and  the  Earth." 


NOTE  (Ee),  P.  381. 

Among  the  various  instances  of  the  sublime,  quoted  from  Ho- 
mer by  Longinus,  the  following  simile  has  always,  in  a  more  par- 
ticular manner,  attracted  the  attention  of  succeeding  critics:— 

Whatever  sublimity  may  belong  to  these  lines,  I  am  inclined 
to  ascribe  almost  entirely  to  the  image  of  the  shepherd,  and  to 
the  commanding  prospect  he  enjoys  from  his  elevated  situation. 


NOTE(Ff),P.  391. 

Marmontel,  in  one  of  the  best  of  his  elementary  books,  has  laid 
bold  of  the  same  analogy,  to  explain  to  his  pupils  the  respective 
effects  of  analysis  and  synthesis,  as  exemplified  in  the  structure 
ef  language. 

♦  Lib.  V.  1. 770. 

*•  Far  as  a  shepherd  from  some  point  on  high 
*'  O'er  the  wide  main  extends  his  boundless  eye, 
"Through  such  a  space  of  air,  witli  thundering  sound, 
*•  At  one  long  leap  th'  immortal  coursers  bound." 


NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS.  567 

«  Vous  voyez  que  c'est  par  foiblesse  que  I'esprit  humain  ge- 
"  neralise  ses  idees.  Pour  rhomme  c'est  un  besoin  de  sim- 

«  plifier  ses  idees,  a  mesure  qu'elles  se  multiplient;  et  ses  gene- 
"  ralisations,  dans  lesquelles  les  differences  specifiques  et  indi- 
«  viduelles  sont  oubliees,  et  qui  reunissent  une  multitude  de 
"  souvenirs  en  un  seul  point  de  ressemblance,  ne  sont  qu'une 
"  facilite  que  se  donne  I'esprit  pour  soulager  sa  vue.  C'est  une 
*'  position  commode  qu'il  prend  pour  dominer  sur  un  plus  grand 
"  nombre  d'objets;  et,  de  cette  esp^ce  d'eminence  ou  il  s'est 
"  place,  sa  veritable  action  consiste  a  redescendre  I'echelle  des 
"  idees,  en  restituant  a  chacune  les  differences  de  son  objet,  ses 
"  proprietes  distinctives;  et  en  composant,  par  la  synthese  ce  qui 
"  par  I'analyse  11  avoit  simplifie."  (Grammaire,  p.  8.) 


NOTE  (Gg),  P.  391. 

Mr.  Maclaurin  has  taken  notice  of  the  former  of  these  circumr 
stances  in  the  introduction  to  his  Treatise  of  Fluxions. — "  Others, 
"  in  the  place  of  indivisible,  substituted  infinitely  small  divisible 
"  elements,  of  which  they  supposed  all  magnitudes  to  be  forra- 
"  ed.  After  these  came  to  be  relished,  an  infinite  scale  of  infini- 
"  tudes  and  infinitesimals  (ascending  and  descending  always  by 
"  infinite  steps)  was  imagined  and  proposed  to  be  received  into 
"  geometry,  as  of  the  greatest  use  for  penetrating  into  its  abstruse 
"  parts.  Some  have  argued  for  quantities  more  than  infinite;  and 
"  others  for  a  kind  of  quantities  that  are  said  to  be  neither  finite 
"  nor  infinite,  but  of  an  intermediate  and  indeterminate  nature. 

"  This  way  of  considering  what  is  called  the  sublime  part  of 
"  geometry  has  so  far  prevailed,  that  it  is  generally  known  by  no 
"  less  a  title  than  the  science,  the  arithmetic,  or  the  geometry  of 
"  infinities.  These  terms  imply  something  lofty  but  mysterious; 
"  the  contemplation  of  which  may  be  suspected  to  amaze  and 
"  perplex,  rather  than  satisfy  or  enlighten  the  understanding; 


568  NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

"  and  while  it  seems  greatly  to  elevate  geometry,  may  possibly 
*'  lessen  its  true  and  real  excellency,  which  chiefly  consists  in  its 
"  perspicuity  and  perfect  evidence."  Maclaurin's  Fluxions,  Vol. 
I.  p.  2. 

Fontenelle,  who  possessed  the  rare  talent  of  adorning  mathe- 
matical science  with  the  attractions  of  a  refined  wit  and  a  lively 
eloquence,  contributed  perhaps  more  than  any  other  individual, 
by  the  popularity  of  his  writings,  to  give  a  currency  to  this  para- 
doxical phraseology.  In  one  passage  he  seems  to  reproach  his 
predecessors  for  the  timid  caution  with  which  they  had  avoided 
these  sublime  speculations;  ascribing  it  to  something  resembling 
the  holy  dread  inspired  by  the  mysteries  of  religion: — A  remark, 
by  the  way,  which  affords  an  additional  illustration  of  the  close 
alliance  between  the  sublime  and  the  awful.  "  Quand  on  y  etoit 
"  arrive,  on  s'arretoit  avec  une  espece  d'effroi  et  de  sainte  hor- 

"  reur. On  regardoit  I'infini  comme  un  mystere  qu'il  falloit 

"  I'especter,  et  qu'il  n'etoit  pas  permis  d'approfondir."  Preface 
des  Elem.  de  la  Geom.  de  I'infini. 

In  the  same  page  of  the  text,  I  have  observed,  that,  "  with  the 
*'  exception  of  the  higher  parts  of  mathematics,  and  one  or  two 
"  others,  for  which  it  is  easy  to  account,  the  epithet  universally 
"  applied  to  the  more  abstruse  branches  of  knowledge  is  not 
«  sublime  but  Jirofound."  One  of  the  exceptions  here  alluded  to, 
is  the  application  we  occasionally  make  of  the  former  of  these 
words  to  moral  speculations,  and  also  to  some  of  those  metaphy- 
sical researches  which  are  connected  with  the  doctrines  of  reli- 
gion; a  mode  of  speaking  which  is  fully  accounted  for  in  the  pre- 
ceding part  of  this  essay. 

Agreeably  to  the  same  analogy,  Milton  applies  to  the  meta- 
physical discussions  of  the  fallen  angels  the  word  high  in  prefer- 
ence to  dee^i.  The  whole  passage  is,  in  this  point  of  view,  de» 
serving  of  attention,  as  it  illustrates  strongly  the  facility  with 
which  the  thoughts  unconsciously  pass  and  repass  from  tlie  lite- 
i*al  to  the  metaphorical  sublime. 

2 


NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS.  569 

"  Others  apart  sat  on  a  hill  retired, 
"  In  thouglits  more  elevate,  and  reasor^d  high 
"  Of  Providence,  foreknowledge,  will,  and  fate: 
"  Fix'd  fate,  free-will,  foreknowledge  absolute." 


NOTE  (H  h),  P.  397, 

In  the  effect  of  this  superiority  of  stature,  there  seems  to  be 
something  specifically  different  from  that  produced  by  an  appa- 
rent superiority  of  strength,  A  broad  Herculean  make  would 
suggest  ideas  much  less  nearly  allied  to  sublimity,  and  would 
even  detract  from  the  respect  which  the  same  stature,  with  a  less 
athletic  form,  would  have  commanded.  A  good  deal  must  here 
be  ascribed  to  that  apprehended  analogy  between  a  towering 
shape  and  a  lofty  mind,  which  has  transferred  metaphorically  so 
many  terms  from  the  former  to  the  latter;  and,  perhaps,  some- 
thing also  to  a  childish  but  natural  association,  grafting  a  feeling 
of  reverence  on  that  elevation  of  body  to  which  we  are  forced  to 
look  ufiivards. 

The  influence  of  similar  associations  may  be  traced  in  the  uni- 
versal practice  of  decorating  the  helmets  of  warriors  with  plumes 
of  feathers;  in  the  artificial  means  employed  to  give  either  a  real 
or  apparent  augmentation  of  stature  to  the  heroes  of  the  busking 
and  in  the  forms  of  respectful  salutation  prevalent  in  all  countries; 
which  forms,  however  various  and  arbitrary  they  may  at  first 
sight  appear,  seem  all  to  agree  (according  to  an  ingenious  re- 
mark of  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds)  in  the  common  idea  of  making  the 
body  less,  in  token  of  reverence. 


NOTE  (I  i),  P.  398. 

Longinus  has  expressed  this  idea  very  unequivocally,  when  he 
tells  us:  "  AxpoTu?  f^  i\oy,A  t/?  hoym  vfxi  t«  t^'*};"  and,  if  possible, 

4C 


570  NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Still  more  explicitly,  his  French  translator,  Boileau;  "  Le  sublime 
"  est  en  effet  ce  qui  forme  I'ejt-ct  Hence  et  la  souveraine  perfection 
«  du  di\cours."  To  this  version  Boileau  adds,  "  Ola  s'entend  plus 
"  aisfement  que  cela  ne  sc  peut  lendre  en  Francois.  Axpartis  veut 
"  dire  mimmitan^l'extrrmite  en  hauteur;  ce  qu'il  y  a  de  filua  eleve 
"  dans  ce  qui  est  eleve.  Le  mot  s|e%«  signifie  a  pen  pres  la  meme 
"  chose,  c'est  a  dire,  emirumtiay  ce  qui  s'elere  au-dessus  du  reste. 
"  C'est  sur  ces  deux  ternies,  dont  la  signification  est  superlative, 
"  et  que  Longin  prend  au  figure,  que  je  me  suis  fonde  pour  sou- 
"  tenir  que  son  dessein  est  de  traiter  du  genre  sublime  de  I'elo- 
«  quence  dans  son  plus  haut  point  de  perfection.'*  (Remarques  sur 
la" Traduction  du  Traite  du  Sublime.)  Oeuvres  de  Boileau,  Tom. 
V.  Amsterdam,  1775. 

In  defence  of  Longinus's  application  of  the  epithet  sublime  to 
Sappho's  Ode,  Mr.  Knight  maintains,  that  the  Pathetic  is  akvaya 
Sublime.  "  All  sympathies  (he  observes)  excited  by  just  and  ap- 
"  propriate  expression  of  energic  passions,  whether  they  be  of 
"  the  tender  or  violent  kind,  are  alike  sublime,  as  they  all  tend 
"  to  expand  and  elevate  the  mind,  and  fill  it  with  those  enthu- 
"  siastic  raptures,  which  Longinus  justly  states  to  be  the  true 
"  feelings  of  sublimity.  Hence  that  author  cites  instances  of  the 
"  sublime,  from  the  tenderest  odes  of  love,  as  well  as  from  the 
*'  most  terrific  images  of  war,  and  with  equal  propriety."  In  a 
subsequent  part  of  his  work,  Mr.  Knight  asserts,  that  "  in  all  the 
"  fictions,  either  of  poetry  or  imitative  art,  there  can  be  nothing 
"  truly  pathetic,  unless  it  be  at  the  same  time  in  some  degree 
"  sublime."  In  this  assertion  he  has  certainly  lost  sight  entirely 
of  the  meaning  in  which  the  words  Sublime  and  Pathetic  are 
commonly  understood  in  our  language;  a  standard  of  judgment, 
upon  questions  of  this  son,  from  which  there  lies  no  appeal  to 
the  arbitrary  definition  of  any  theorist;  not  even  to  the  authority 
of  Longinus  himself.  Upon  an  accurate  examination  of  the  sub- 
ject, It  will  be  found  that,  like  most  other  authors  who  have  treat- 
ed of  Sublimity,  he  has  proceeded  on  the  supposition  of  the  pos- 


XOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS.  571 

sibility  of  bringing  under  one  precise  definition,  the  views  of 
sublimity  taken  both  by  the  ancients  and  by  the  moderns,  without 
making  due  allowances  for  the  numberless  modifications  of  the 
idea,  which  may  be  expected  from  their  different  systems  of 
manners,  from  their  different  religious  creeds,  and  from  various 
other  causes.  Whoever  reflects  on  the  meaning  of  the  word  Vir- 
tus as  employed  by  the  earlier  Romans,  and  compares  it  with  the 
Vircic  of  their  degenerate  descendants,  will  not  be  surprised  at 
the  anomalies  he  meets  with,  in  attempting  to  reconcile  com- 
pletely the  doctrines  of  ancient  and  modern  critics  concerning  the 
Sublime;  and  will  find  reason  to  be  satisfied,  when  he  is  able  to 
give  a  plausible  account  of  some  of  these  anomalies  from  their 
different  habits  of  thinking,  and  their  different  modes  of  philoso- 
phizing upon  the  principles  of  criticism. 

"  Appellata  est  a  Viro  virtus.  Viri  autem  propria  maxime  est 
"  fortitudo,  cujus  munera  duo  maxima  sunt,  mortis  dolorisque 
"  contemptio."  Cic.  Tusc.  2.  18. 

"  Virtus  signifia  d'abord  la  force,  ensuite  le  courage,  ensuite  la 
«  grandeur  morale.  Chez  les  \idX\tv\s,  vircic  ne  designe  guere  que 
"  la  pratique  des  beaux  arts;  et  le  mot  qui,  dans  son  origine,  ex- 
"  primait  la  qualite  qui  distingue  eminemment  rhomnie.  est 
"  donne  aujourd'hui  a  des  etres  qui  ont  perdu  la  qualite  distinc- 
"  tive  de  Thomme.  Un  Soprano  est  le  Vinuoao  par  excellence." 
Suard.  Essai  sur  la  Vie  et  le  Caractere  du  Tasse. 

In  the  instance  of  the  sublime,  it  seems  to  me  to  be  much  less 
wonderful  that  there  should  be  some  anomalies  in  the  use  made 
of  this  word  by  Longinus,  when  compared  with  our  present 
modes  of  thinking  and  of  speaking,  than  that  the  points  of  coin- 
cidence should  be  so  many  between  his  view  of  the  subject,  and 
that  which  we  meet  with  in  the  best  books  of  philosophical  cri- 
ticism which  have  yet  appeared. 

I  shall  take  this  opportunity  to  remark  (although  the  observa- 
tion has  no  immediate  connection  with  the  foregoing  train  of 
thinking),  that  a  talent  for  the  pathetic,  and  a  talent  for  humour. 


572  NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

arc  generally  united  in  the  same  person.  Wit  is  more  nearly  al- 
lied tt>  a  taste  for  the  sublime.  I  have  found  the  observation  veri- 
fied, as  far  as  my  own  knowledge  extends,  whether  of  men  or  of 
books.  Nor  do  I  think  it  would  be  difficult  to  explain  the  fact, 
from  the  acknowledged  laws  of  the  human  mind. 


NOTE  (Kk),  P.  398. 

The  eloquent  and  philosophical  passage  which  I  am  now  to 
quote,  with  respect  to  the  final  cause  of  the  pleasures  connected 
with  the  emotion  of  Sublimity,  affords  a  proof,  that  the  views  of 
Longinus  occasionally  rose  from  the  professed  and  principal  ob- 
ject of  his  book  to  other  speculations  of  a  higher  and  more  com- 
prehensive nature.  I  shall  give  it  to  my  readers  in  the  words  of 
Dr.  Akenside. 

"  Those  godlike  geniuses  were  well  assured,  that  nature  had 
"  not  intended  man  for  a  low-spirited  or  ignoble  being:  but, 
"  bringing  us  into  life  and  the  midst  of  this  vast  universe,  as  be- 
"  fore  a  multitude  assembled  at  some  heroic  solemnity,  that  we 
"  might  be  spectators  of  all  her  magnificence,  and  candidates 
"  high  for  the  prize  of  glory,  she  has,  therefore,  implanted  in 
"  our  souls  an  unextinguishable  love  of  every  thing  great  and 
"  exalted,  of  every  thing  which  appears  divine  beyond  our  com- 
"  prehension.  Whence  it  comes  to  pass,  that  even  the  whole 
"  world  is  not  an  object  sufficient  for  the  depth  and  capacity  of 
"  human  imagination,  which  often  sallies  forth  beyond  the  limits 
"  of  all  that  surrounds  us.  Let  any  man  cast  his  eye  through  the 
"  whole  circle  of  our  existence,  and  consider  how  especially  it 
"  abounds  with  excellent  and  grand  objects,  he  will  soon  acknow- 
<«  ledge  for  what  enjoyments  and  pursuits  we  were  destined.  Thus, 
"  by  the  very  propensity  of  nature  we  are  led  to  admire,  not  little 
"  springs  or  shallow  rivulets,  however  clear  and  delicious,  but 
"  the  Nile,  the  Rhine,  the  Danube,  and  much  more  than  all, 
"  the  Ocean."  Longin.  Sect.  24. 


NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS,  57$- 


*»  NOTE  (L  I),  P.  403. 

Longinus  himself  was  plainly  impressed  with  the  same  associa- 
tion, when  he  remarked:  "  '«4'ej  Ss  ttb  Kut^tug  t^Dn^S-iy  t«  re  v^xy- 

The  beginning  of  this  sentence  is  thus  translated  by  Boileau: 
"  Quand  le  sublime  -vitnt  a  eclater"  &c.; — upon  which  version 
Dacier  observes  as  follows:  "  Notre  langue  n'a  que  ce  mot  eclater 
"  pour  exprimer  le  mot  ilevtx.^i>,  qui  est  emprunte  de  la  tempete, 
"  et  qui  donne  une  idee  merveilleuse,  a  peu  pres  comme  ce  mat 
"  de  Virgile,  abrufitis  nubibus  ignes.  Longin  a  voulu  donner  ici 
"  une  image  de  la  foudre  que  Ton  voit  plutot  tomber  que  partir." 
— Oeuv.  de  Boileau,  p.  16,  Tom.  V.  ed.  Amst. 


NOTE  (Mm;,  P.  409. 

After  consulting  Bailly's  History  of  Astronomy,  I  find  that  my 
memory  has  not  been  so  faithful  on  this  occasion  as  I  had  ima- 
gined, and  that  I  have  connected  with  this  particular  description, 
several  ideas  which  occur  in  other  parts  of  the  same  work.  As  it 
appears  to  me,  however,  of  more  consequence,  at  present,  to 
illustrate  my  own  idea  than  to  rectify  this  trifling  inadvertency, 
I  have  allowed  the  passage  to  remain  as  it  was  originally  written. 
(See  Hist,  de  I'Astron.  Mod.  liv.  7.) 

In  the  hurry  of  preparing  for  the  press  the  notes  on  this  Essay, 
I  neglected  to  refer,  on  a  former  occasion  (when  speaking  of  the 
intimate  connexion  between  the  ideas  of  the  literal  and  of  the 
religious  Sublime),  to  the  description  given  by  Thomas  of  the 
sublime  eloquence  of  Bossuet.  It  is  a  description  not  unworthy  of 


574  NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Bossuet  himself;  but  I  am  prevented  by  its  length  from  quoting 
it  here.  I  cannot,  however,  deny  myself  the  pleasure  of  transcribing 
a  few  unconnected  sentences. 

"  Jamais  personne  n'a  parle  de  Dieu  avec  tant  de  dignite.  La 
Divinite  est  dans  ses  discours  comme  dans  Tunivers,  remuant 

tout,  agitant  tout Dans  son  eloquence  sublime,  il  so  place  entre 

Dieu  et  I'homme,  il  s'adresse  a  eux  tour-a-tour. Qui  mieux 

que  lui,  a  parle  de  la  vie,  de  la  mort,  de  I'eternite,  du  tems?  Ces 
idees  par  elles-meme  inspirent  a  rimagination  une  espece  de 

terreur,  qui  n'est  pas  loin  du  sublime. A  travers  une  foule  de 

sentimens  qui  Tentrainent,  Bossuet  ne  fait  que  prononcer  de 
temps  en  temps des  mots;  et  ces  mots  alors  font  frissonner,  comme 
les  cris  interrompus  que  le  voyageur  entend  quelquefois  pendant 
la  nuit,  dans  le  silence  des  forets,  etqui  I'avertissent  d'un  danger 
qu'il  ne  connoit  pas. — — Mais  ce  qui  le  distingue  le  plus,  c'est 
Hmpetuosite  de  ses  mouvements,  c'cst  son  ame  qui  se  mele  a 
tout.  Il  semble  que  du  sommet  d'un  lieu  elev6,  il  decouvre  des 
grands  evenemens  qui  se  passent  sous  ses  yeux,  et  qu'il  les  ra- 
conte  a  des  hommes  qui  sont  en  bas." 


NOTE(Nn),  P.  418. 

In  his  argument  concerning  the  Cou/i  d'Oeil  Militaire,  Folard 
rests  his  opinion,  not  on  any  general  philosophical  considerations, 
but  on  the  results  which  his  good  sense  suggested  to  him  from 
the  records  of  military  history,  and  from  his  own  personal  obser- 
vation and  experience.  The  following  short  quotation  will  confirm 
what  I  hav^  stated  in  the  text,  concerning  the  universality  of  the 
prejudice  there  mentioned,  at  the  period  when  he  wrote;  a  cir- 
cumstance which,  when  contrasted  with  the  glaring  absurdity 
which  it  now  presents  to  the  most  superficial  inquirers,  may  be 
regarded  as  good  evidence  of  the  progress  which  the  theory  of 
the  human  mind  has  made  during  the  course  of  the  last  century 


NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS.  57ff 

"  C'est  le  sentiment  general  que  le  coup  d'cEil  ne  depend  pas^ 
de  nous,  que  c'est  un  present  de  la  nature,  que  les  campagnes 
ne  le  donnent  point,  et  qu'en  un  mot  il  faut  I'apporter  en  naissan  t, 
sans  quoiles  yeux  du  monde  les  plus  percans  ne  voyent  goute  ct 
marchent  dans  les  tenebres  les  plus  epaisses.  On  se  trompe;  nous 
avons  tous  le  coup  d'ceil  selon  la  portion  d'esprit  et  de  bon  sens 
qu'il  a  plu  a  la  providence  de  nous  departir.  II  nait  de  Tun  et  d<J 
I'auire,  mais  I'acquis  I'affine  et  le  perfectionne,  et  I'experiencc 
nous  I'assure." 

"  Philopcemen  avoit  un  coufi  d'ceil  admirable.  On  ne  doiJt 


pas  le  considerer  en  lui  comme  un  present  de  la  nature,  mais 
comme  le  fruit  de  I'etude,  de  I'application,  et  de  son  extreme 
passion  pour  la  guerre.  Plutarque  nous  apprend  la  methode  dont 
il  se  servit  pour  voir.de  tout  autres  yeux  que  de  ceux  des  autreB 
pour  la  conduite  des  armees,"  &c.  &c,  &c. 


NOTE  (O  o),  P.  430. 

"  Ceux  qui  passent  leur  vie  dans  la  society  la  plus  etendue  sonfc 
"  bien  bornes,  s'ils  ne  prennent  pas  facilement  un  tact  fin  et  deli- 
"  cat,  et  s'ils  n'acquierent  pas  la  connoissance  du  coeur  humain." 
Les  deux  Refiutations.  Conte  moral,  par  Madame  de  Sillery. 

Quinctilian  seems  to  employ  the  phrase  senntts  cojninunis  in  the 
same  acceptation  nearly,  with  the  French  word  tact.  "  Sensum 
"  ipsum,  qui  communis  dicitur,  ubi  discet,  cum  se  a  congressu, 
"  qui  non  hominibus  solum,  sed  multis  quoque  animalibus  natu- 
"  ralis  est,  segregarit? 

On  which  passage  Turnebus  remarks;  "  per  sensum  communc.m.^ 
"  intelligit  peritiam  quandam  et  experiiintiam,  qux  ex  hominum 
"  congressu  sensim  coUigitur,  appellaturque  a  Cicerone  Commu- 
"  nis  Prudenlia," 

D'AIembert  occasionally  uses  tact  to  denote  one  of  the  quali- 
fies of  Taste; — that  peculiar  delicacy  of  perception,  which  (Iflce 


5i76  NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS 

the  nice  touch  of  a  blind  man)  arises  from  habits  of  close  attention 
1 0  those  slighter  feelings  which  escape  general  notice;  a  quality 
which  is  very  commonly  confounded  (sometimes  by  D'Alembert 
h  imself)  with  that  sensibility  to  beauty,  which  is  measured  by  the 
d<Jgree  of  pleasure  communicated  to  the  observer.  It  appears  to 
mie,  at  the  same  time,  to  be  probable,  that  when  he  thus  employ-^ 
e  d  the  word,  he  had  an  eye  chiefly  to  those  questions  concerning 
t;iste,  which  (as  I  before  said)  fall  under  the  province  of  the 
c  onnoisseur.  No  person,  I  apprehend,  would  use  tact  to  express 
a  quick  perception  of  the  beauty  of  a  fine  prospect- — nor  does  it 
s  eem  to  be  often  or  very  correctly  applied  to  a  quick  and  lively 
pierception  of  the  beauties  of  writing.  "  On  pent,  ce  me  semblci 
"'d'apres  ces  reflexions,  repondre  en  deux  mots  a  la  question  sou- 
"■vent  agitee,  si  le  sentiment  est  preferable  a  la  discussion,  pour 
"•  juger  un  ouvrage  de  gotlt.  L'impression  est  le  juge  natural  du 
'•'  premier  moment,  la  discussion  Test  du  second.  Dans  les  per- 
' '  sonnes  qui  joignent  a  la  finesse  et  a  la  promptitude  du  tact  la 
^'•nettete  et  la  justesse  de  I'esprit,  le  second  juge  ne  fera  pour 
"  I'ordinaire  que  confirmer  les  arrets  rendus  par  le  premier," 
Stc.  &c. 


NOTE  (P  p),  P.  446. 

-In  the  article  Beau  of  the  French  Encyclofiedie,  mention  is 
maxle  of  a  treatise  on  the  beautiful^  by  St.  Augustine,  which  is 
noMr  lost.  Some  idea,  however,  we  are  told,  may  be  formed  of  its 
conitents  from  different  passages  scattered  through  his  other  writ- 
ing;s. — The  idea  here  ascribed  to  St.  Augustine,  amounts  to  this, 
that  the  distinctive  character  of  beauty  is,  that  exact  relation  of 
the:  parts  of  a  whole  to  each  other,  which  constitutes  its  unity. 
"  C^est  Vunite  qui  constitue,  pourainsi  dire,  la  forme  etl'essence 
"  du  beau  en  tout  genre.  Omnis  fiorro  fiulchritudinis  forma,  unitas 
<'  e  v," — The  theory  certainly  is  not  of  very  great  value;  but  the 

2 


NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS.  577 

attempt  is  curious,  when  connected  with  the  history  of  the  author 
and  with  that  of  his  asje. 

With  respect  to  this  attempt  (which  may  be  considered  as  a 
generalization  of  the  theory  of  Utility)  it  may  be  remarked  far- 
ther, that  although  evidently  far  too  confined  to  include  all  the 
elements  of  the  Beautiful,  yet  that  it  includes  a  larger  proportion 
than  many  others,  of  those  higher  beauties,  which  form  the  chief 
objects  of  study  to  a  man  of  refined  taste. 

"  Denique  sit  quod  vis  simplex  duntaxat  et  unum." 

"  Still  follow  sense  of  every  art  the  soul: 

"  Parts  answering  parts,  will  slide  into  a  ivhole" 

Even  in  the  works  of  nature,  one  of  the  chief  sources  of  their 
Beauty  to  a  philosophical  eye,  is  the  Unity  of  Design  which  they 
every  where  exhibit. — On  the  mind  of  St.  Augustine,  who  had 
been  originally  educated  in  the  school  of  the  Manieheans,  this 
view  of  the  subject  might  reasonably  be  expected  to  produce  a 
peculiarly  strong  impression. 


NOTE  (Q  q),  P.  464. 

The  same  remark  will  be  found  to  hold  in  all  the  fine  arts. — 
"  A  true  connoisseur"  (says  a  late  writer,  who  has  had  the  best 
opportunities  to  form  a  just  opinion  on  this  point)  ^'  who  sees  the 
"  work  of  a  great  master,  seizes,  at  the  first  glance,  its  merits  and 
"  its  beauties.  He  may  afterwards  discover  defects;  but  he  always 
"  returns  to  that  which  pleased  him,  and  would  rather  admire 
"  than  find  fault.  To  begin  with  finding  fault  where  there  are 
"  beauties  to  admire,  is  a  sure  proof  of  want  of  taste.  This  re- 
"  mark  is  the  result  of  several  years  of  my  observation  in  Italy. 
"  All  the  young  men  looked  for  defects  in  the  finest  works  of 

4  D 


578  NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

"  Corregio,  Guido,  and  Raphael,  in  the  Venus  de  Medicis,  the 
"  Apollo  Belvidere,  and  the  church  of  St.  Peter:  whereas,  those 
*'  who  profited  by  the  lessons  which  were  given  them,  saw  only 
*' beauties."  (Dutensiana,  \>.  110.) 

Taste  is  defined  by  the  same  writer,  to  be  "  the  discernment  of 
the  beautijul."  The  definition  is  obviously  much  too  confined  and 
partial;  as  the  discernment  of  faults  as  well  as  of  beauties,  is  a 
necessary  ingredient  in  the  composition  of  this  power.  But  it  has 
the  merit  of  touching  on  that  ingredient  or  element  which  is  the 
most  essential  oi  xXiG,  whole;  inasmuch  as  it  is  the  basis  or  substra- 
tum of  all  the  rest,  and  the  only  one  where  education  can  do  but 
little  to  supply  the  deficiencies  of  nature.  According  to  the  vulgar 
idea,  Taste  may  be  defined  to  be  "  the  discernment  of  blemishes." 


NOTE(Rr),  P.  491. 

The  account  givfen  by  Reynolds  himself  of  what  he  felt  upon 
this  occasion,  does  not  accord  literally  with  the  fiction  of  the 
poet;  as  it  appears  that  \ii?,Jirst  raptures  were  inconsiderable,  in 
comparison  of  those  which  he  experienced  afterwards,  upon  a 
careful  and  critical  examination  of  Raffaelle's  Works.  The  facty 
therefore,  is  incomparably  more  favourable  than  Xhtfictiouy  to  the 
argument  stated  in  the  text; 


NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


579 


gg^g  5  ^^^  belief  of  the  present  ex- 
'=*         I   istence  of  an  object. 


NOTE  (**),  to  the  Preliminary  Dissertation,  P.  9. 
Tabic  of  Dr.  Reid's  Instinctive  Principles,  extracted  from 
Priestley's  Examination,  P.  9. 

{A  present  sensation  sugc 
Memory                      the  belief  of  its  past  existence. 
Imagination                no  belief  at  all. 

2  Mental  affections S  the  idea  and  belief  of  our  own 

3  Odours,  tastes, 

sounds,  and 
certain  affec- 
tions of  the 
optic  nerve 

4  A  hard  substance 


5  An  extended  sub 

stance 

6  All  the  primary") 

qualities  of  bo-  V 
dies  J 

5  A  body  in  motion 

6  Certain  forms  of"] 

the  features,  j 
articulations  of ! 
the  voice,  and  j 
attitudes  of  the  j 
body  J 

7  Inverted  images  > 

on  the  retina    3 

8  Images  in  corre- 

sponding parts 
of  both  eyes 


} 


Pains  in  any  part  > 
of  the  body       3 


existence. 


5  their  peculiar  corresponding 
C    sensations. 


C  the  sensation  of  hardness,  and 
"  I  the  belief  of  something  hard. 

-the  idea  of  extension  and  space. 


-their  peculiar  sensations. 


-the  idea  of  motion. 


{ 


the  idea  and  belief  of  certain 
thoughts,  purposes,  and  dis- 
positions of  the  mind. 


-upright  vision. 


-single  vision. 


the  idea  of  the  place  where 
the  pain  is  seated. 

He  also  enumerates  the  following  among  instinctive  faculties  or 

principles^  viz: 

10  The  parallel  motion  of  the  eyes,  as  necessary  to  distinct 

vision. 

1 1  The  sense  of  veracity,  or  a  disposition  to  speak  truth 


580  NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

12  A  sense  of  credulity,  or  a  disposition  to  believe  others. 

1 3  The  inductive  faculty,  by  which  we  infer  similar  effects  from 

similar  causes. 
To  this  table  Priestley  has  subjoined  (under  the  title  of  ^m^Ao- 
rities)  a  series  of  quotations  from  Reid's  Inquiry,  which  h&  seems 
to  have  considered  as  justifying  the  statement  which  the  table 
exhibits  of  the  leading  opinions  contained  in  that  work.  How  far 
the  statement  is  correct,  those  who  have  at  all  entered  into  the 
spirit  of  Reid's  reasonings,  will  be  able  to  judge  completely  from 
the  4th,  5th,  and  6th  articles;~according  to  which,  Reid  is  re- 
presented as  having  maintained,  that  a  hard  substance  suggests 
the  sensation  of  hardness,  and  the  belief  of  something  hard;— an 
extended  substance,  the  idea  of  extension  and  space;  and  the  prima- 
ry qualities  of  bodies  in  gefieral,  their  ftcculiar  sensations The 

authority  produced  for  ih&  first  of  these  charges  is  the  following 
sentence: 

"  By  an  original  principle  of  our  constitution,  a  certain  sensa- 
"  tion  of  touch  both  suggests  to  the  mind  the  conception  of  hard- 
"  ness,  and  creates  the  belief  of  it;  or,  in  other  words,  this  sensa- 
"  tion  is  a  natural  sign  of  hardness." 

It  is  perfectly  evident  that  the  authority  here  is  not  only  at  va- 
riance with  the  charge;  but  is  in  direct  opposition  to  it.  Accord- 
ing to  Reid,  the  sensation  suggests  the  conception  oi  hardness; 
according  to  Priestley's  comment,  he  maintains  the  absurd  and 
nonsensical  proposition,  that  «  a  hard  substance  suggests  the  sen- 
"  sation  of  hardness."— The  other  two  misrepresentations  are 
equally  gross;  and  indeed  precisely  of  the  same  description. 

2 


•I 

1 


DATE  DUE 

-Hfil 

.i^iiipi^ 

^^gSwik 

1 

CAVLORO 

miNTCOINU.*  A. 

